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SERMONS 


BY     THE    LATE 


REV.  EDWARD  D.  GRIFFIN.  D.D. 


TO    WHICH    IS    PREi'IXEn    A 


MEMOIR    OF    HIS    LIFE, 


WILLIAM  B.  SPRAGUE,  D.D. 


MINISTER  OF   THE  SECOND   PRESBYTERIAN    CONGREGATION   IN   ALBANY. 


VOLUME 


ALBANY : 

PRINTED    BY   PACKAKD,    VAN   BENTHUYSEN    &.   CO. 

1838. 


[Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1838,  by  Halsted 
and  VooKHEis,  in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern 
District^of  New-York.] 


CONTENTS. 
MEMOIR. 

CHAPTER  I, 
Previous  to  his  settlement  at  New-Hartford, 1 

CHAPTER  11. 
His  residence  at  New-Hartford, 1 1 

CHAPTER  III. 
His  first  residence  at  Newark, 55 

CHAPTER  IV. 
His  residence  at  Andover  and  Boston, 98 

CHAPTER  V. 
His  second  residence  at  Newark, 137 

CHAPTER  VI. 
His  residence  at  Williamstown,  • 142 

CHAPTER  VII. 

His  last  residence  at  Newark,  and  his  death, 211 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
General  estimate  of  his  character  and  influence,  •  •  247 


SERMONS. 


SERMON  I. 

Col.  i.  10. 

The  knowledge  of  God, 273 

SERMON  II. 

IsA.  Ixiii.  7. 

The  tender  mercies  of  God, 291 

SERMON  III. 

Rom.  v.  12-19. 

Adam  our  federal  head, 355 

SERMON  IV. 

Jer.  xliv.  4. 

The  abominable  nature  of  sin, 325 

SERMON  V. 

Mat.  xvi.  26. 

The  worth  of  the  soul, • .   339 

SERMON  VI. 

Mat.  xxiv.  32,  33. 

Tokens  of  perdition, 357 

SERMON  VII. 

Jer.  xvii.  5,  6. 

The  heath  in  the  desert, 371 


CONTENTS. 

SERMON  VIII. 

Mat.  xi.  12. 

Taking  the  kingdom  by  violence, 389 

SERMON  IX. 

John  xvii.  6. 

The  band  which  took  Christ, 407 

SERMON  X. 

Luke  xiii.  6-9. 

The  fruitless  tig  tree, 423 

SERMON   XI. 

Jer.  viii.  20-22. 

Harvest  past  and  balm  of  Gilead, 437 

SERMON  XII. 

Jer.  xiii.  21. 

What  wilt  thou  say  when  he  shall  punish  thee,  •  •  •   555 

SERMON  XIII. 

Luke  xiii.  24. 

The  strait  gate, 469 

SERMON  XIV. 

Mat.  viii.   11,  12. 

Gospel  despisers  passed  by,  and  the  heathen  taken,  485 

SERMON  XV. 

1  Thes.  v.   19. 

duench  not  the  Spirit,  • » « 503 

SERMON  XVI. 

Deut.  X.  12. 

Exhortation  to  serve  the  Lord, 519 

SERMON  XVII. 

Luke  xiv.  18. 

Excuses, 535 

SERMON  XVIII. 

Isaiah  i,  18. 

Let  us  reason  together, 549 


CONTENTS. 

SERMON  XIX. 

NcM.  X.  29-32. 

Hobab, ^^3 

SERMON  XX. 

Luke  xx  iii.47-49. 

Returning  from  the  crucifixion, 579 


MEMOIK 


MEMOIR  OF  REV.  DOCTOR  GRIFFIN. 


CHAPTER  I. 


FROM  HIS  BIRTH  TO  THE  TIME  6F  HIS  SETTLEMENT  AT 
•  NEW-HARTFORD. 

Edward  Dorr  Griffin  was  born  at  East  Had- 
dam,  Connecticut,  January  6,  1770.  His  father 
was  George  Griffin,  a  wealthy  farmer,  a  man  of 
a  vigorous  intellect,  of  great  enterprise,  and  of  a 
superior  education  for  a  common  one  of  that  day. 
His  mother  was  Eve  Dorr,  of  Lyme,  and  is  said 
to  have  been  distinguished  for  her  lovely  and  en- 
gaging qualities.  She  belonged  to  a  family  strongly 
marked  by  good  sense,  and  extensively  known  in 
the  civil  history  both  of  the  state  and  nation.*  He 
had  two  brothers,  (Col.  Josiah  Griffin,  of  East 
Haddam,  and  George  Griffin,  Esq.  an  eminent 
lawyer  of  the  city  of  New- York,)  and  five  sisters, 
all  of  whom  were  married.     He  was  named  after 


*  Her  mother  was  a  sister  of  the  first  Governor  Gkjswold. 

Vol.  I.  1 


PREVIOUS    TO    HIS 


his  uncle,  the  Reverend  Edward  Dorr,  of  Hart- 
ford, and  was,  in  the  intention  of  his  parents,  de- 
voted to  the  ministry  from  his  birth  ;  a  circumstance 
which  was  certainly  somewhat  singular,  as  neither 
of  his  parents  at  that  time  made  any  pretensions  to 
piety.  His  uncle,  who  married  a  daughter  of  Go- 
vernor Talcott,  but  had  no  children,  would  pro- 
bably have  educated  him  if  he  had  lived,  but  he  was 
removed  during  his  nephew's  infancy. 

As  he  was  intended  for  the  ministry,  and  withal 
was  incapacitated  by  bodily  indisposition  to  labour 
much  upon  the  farm,  he  was  kept  almost  constantly 
at  school  up  to  the  time  of  his  entering  college. 
His  preparatory  studies  were  chiefly  under  the  Re- 
verend Joseph  Vaill,  of  Hadlyme,  towards  whom 
he  continued  till  the  close  of  life  to  cherish  the 
most  grateful  and  filial  veneration. 

In  September,  1786,  he  became  a  member  of 
Yale  College.  Here  he  distinguished  himself  in 
every  department  of  study,  and  gave  unequivocal 
indications  of  a  commanding  and  splendid  intellect. 
He  graduated  with  the  highest  honors  of  his  class, 
in  1790. 

While  he  was  at  home  during  one  of  his  college 
vacations,  a  circumstance  occurred  by  means  of 
which  he  had  well  nigh  lost  his  life.  His  father  had 
a  fine  young  horse,  whose  spirit  no  one  had  been 
able  to  subdue.  Edward  mounted  him,  rode  him  for 
several  hours,  and  returned  in  high  spirits,  declaring 
that  he  would  have  him  for  his  Bucephalus.  Short- 
ly after  he  mounted  him  a  second  time,  upon  which 
the  horse  instantly  stood  erect  upon  his  hind  feet, 


SETTLEMENT    AT    NEW-HARTFORD.  3 

and  fell  backwards  upon  Edward  with  his  whole 
weight.  When  he  was  taken  up,  all  signs  of  ani- 
mation had  fled,  and  his  friends  for  some  time  sup- 
posed that  the  vital  principle  was  gone.  By  the 
blessing  of  God,  however,  upon  the  vigorous  appli- 
cations that  were  made  to  his  body,  he  gradually 
revived,  and  at  no  distant  period  was  able  to  return 
to  college  and  prosecute  his  studies  with  his  accus- 
tomed alacrity. 

The  following  account  of  the  commencement  and 
progress  of  his  religious  impressions  is  extracted 
from  some  brief  recollections  of  his  early  life,  which 
he  committed  to  writing  but  a  short  time  previous 
to  his  death. 

I  had  religious  impressions  occasionally  from  my  earliest 
childhood.  When  I  was  quite  young,  certainly  not  more  than 
four  or  five  years  old,  one  of  my  companions,  a  little  older  than 
myself,  told  me,  while  in  the  fields,  about  death  and  a  future 
state.  I  remember  1  was  deeply  affected.  My  mother  after- 
wards informed  me  that  I  came  home  weeping,  and  asked  her 
about  these  things,  and  appeared  not  to  get  over  it  all  day. 
In  later  life  I  have  often  been  affected  at  the  condescension  of 
Him  who  frequently  visited  a  poor,  ignorant,  wicked  child,  and 
forced  him  into  the  secret  corner  to  pray.  I  remember  some 
instances  in  which  my  prayers  were  so  earnest  that  I  thought 
I  should  prevail,  and  was  determined  to  take  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  by  violence.  Once  in  a  time  of  sickness,  my  distress 
of  mind  was  succeeded  by  a  hope ;  but  it  was  full  of  self- 
righteousness,  saying  toothers,  "Stand  by  thyself,  I  am  holier 
than  thou."  I  remember  that,  in  looking  around  among  those 
I  knew,  I  could  see  none  whom  I  would  allow  to  be  christians. 
They  all  fell  short  of  the  standard  which  I  had  erected.  With 
all  these  motions  of  conscience,  I  know  not  that  any  person 
supposed  that  I  was  other  than  a  thoughtless,  light  and  play- 
ful child. 


4  PREVIOUS    TO   HIS 

I  went  to  college  in  liope  of  being  fitted  for  the  ministry. 
I  not  unfrequently  attended  the  Saturday  evening  prayer 
meeting,  and  found  my  conscience  affected  by  it.  I  used  to 
calculate  that  if  I  were  not  converted  while  in  college,  I  should 
probably  die  in  my  sins.  I  always  shrunk  with  horror  at  the 
idea  of  going  into  the  ministry  without  religion.  If  then  I 
should  not  be  a  christian  when  I  graduated,  I  should  study 
law ;  and  the  temptations  of  that  life  and  society  would  carry 
me  farther  and  farther  from  God,  and  in  all  probabiUty  would 
seal  my  ruin.  Thus  I  calculated.  Still  I  remained  un- 
changed. When  I  entered  my  senior  year,  1  thought  it  was 
high  time  to  fix  on  my  future  course ;  and  as  God  had  not 
changed  my  heart,  I  said  to  myself,  "  What  should  I  wait  for 
the  Lord  any  longer?"  (2  Kings  vi.  33.)  and  devoted  myself 
to  the  law.  For  nearly  two  years  I  threw  off  the  restraints  of 
conscience,  and  made  up  my  mind  to  be  a  man  of  the  world ; 
but  my  habits  and  sense  of  propriety  kept  me  from  vicious 
courses. 

After  I  graduated,  I  engaged  as  principal  of  an  academy  at 
Derby,  about  ten  miles  west  of  New-Haven,  where  I  spent 
nine  of  the  gayest  months  of  my  life.  In  July,  1791,  I  was 
taken  sick.  The  thought  which  I  had  frequently  had  before 
in  sickness  returned  upon  me  with  greater  power  :  "If  I  can- 
not bear  this  for  a  short  time,  how  can  I  bear  the  pains  of  hell 
forever  ?"  I  have  no  distinct  recollection  of  the  exercises  which 
accompanied  this  uneasiness.  I  can  only  say  that  I  found 
myself  resolved  to  lead  a  different  life,  and  to  devote  myself  to 
the  service  of  God.  I  had  often  formed  such  a  resolution,  but 
this  seemed  to  be  more  deep  and  real  than  any  which  I  had 
formed  before.  That  was  all  I  knew  about  myself.  After 
my  recovery,  these  thoughts  continued  and  increased ;  but  it 
was  two  or  three  months  before  I  durst  conclude  that  I  was  a 
child  of  God.  Still  the  thought  of  changing  my  profession 
never  entered  my  mind.  I  have  often  wondered  how  this 
could  be ;  but  I  believe  it  arose  from  a  natural  fixedness  of 
purpose,  which  renders  it  difficult  for  me  to  change.  One 
Sabbath,  in  the  course  of  that  fall,  my  mind  was  strangely 


SETTLEMENT    AT    NEW-HARTFORD.  5 

tried  throughout  the  day  with  occasional  thoughts  about  my 
future  course  as  a  lawyer, — the  wide  separation  from  domestic 
friends  it  would  occasion,  &c.  The  course  appeared  more 
fraught  with  trials  than  ever  it  had  done  before.  Still  not  a 
thought  of  change  once  crossed  my  mind,  any  more  than 
though  there  had  been  but  one  profession.  After  the  second 
service  I  returned  to  my  lodgings,  and  taking  a  small  Bible 
and  putting  it  under  my  arm,  started  for  my  chamber.  A 
stray  thought,  as  I  passed  through  the  room,  occurred  to  me — 
"I  have  seen  ministers  carry  a  Bible  thus  to  the  meeting- 
house." The  question  instantly  came  back  upon  me^"And 
why  should  not  you  be  a  minister?"  It  made  no  impression. 
"And  why  should  not  you  be  a  minister?"  Still  I  turned  it  off. 
"And  why  should  not  you  be  a  minister  ?"  By  the  time  I  had 
reached  the  top  of  the  stairs,  this  question  had  been  thrown 
back  upon  me  so  often,  and  seemingly  by  another,  that  I  was 
brought  to  a  solemn  resolution  to  examine  it  seriously.  I  had 
little  christian  experience  or  knowledge,  and  probably  was 
presumptuous  in  looking  for  guidance  to  the  passages  to  which 
I  should  open :  but  so  it  was.  I  prayed  most  earnestly  that 
God  would  reveal  my  duty  by  the  portion  of  scripture  to  which 
he  should  direct  me,  and  then  opened  the  Bible  and  read.  I 
did  this  several  times,  and  every  time  opened  to  something 
which  seemed,  at  least  to  my  imagination,  in  favor  of  the 
change.  I  turned  then  to  the  thing  itself.  1  had  not  gone 
too  far  to  change.  That  was  the  time  of  life  for  me  to  choose 
a  profession.  1  had  finished  my  academical  education.  I 
hoped  I  possessed  religion :  I  had  looked  forward  to  the  mi- 
nistry in  case  I  should  obtain  that  quahfication,  though  of  late 
I  had  wholly  lost  sight  of  the  object.  Why  should  I  not  return 
to  it  ?  I  was  afraid  I  was  tempting  God  by  asking  for  direction 
in  the  way  I  did :  but  I  ventured  to  entreat  him  to  guide  me 
again,  and  I  would  ask  but  that  once ;  and  I  opened  to  Christ's 
sermon  on  the  mount.  Instantly  the  whole  character  of  Christ 
as  a  preacher  opened  to  my  view.  There  had  never  been  but 
one  perfect  example :  And  how  did  he  spend  his  time  in  his 
passage  through  this  world  ?  Not  in  contending  who  should 


6  PREVIOUS   TO   HIS 

have  that  flock  of  sheep  or  that  piece  of  ground,  but  in  preach- 
ing the  everlasting  gospel  and  plucking  souls  as  brands  from 
the  burnings.  My  mind  was  settled  at  once.  From  the  time 
the  thought  had  first  occurred  to  me,  till  my  purpose  was  as 
fixed  as  it  ever  has  been  since,  was  not  more  than  half  or  three 
quarters  of  an  hour.  I  had  been  habituated,  with  my  proud 
heart,  to  pour  contempt  on  the  ministry ;  and  it  presented  itself 
before  me,  at  that  moment,  as  "the  loss  of  all  things."  I  had 
been  accustomed,  with  my  vain  mind,  to  anticipate  the  highest 
civil  honors  in  the  profession  of  the  law.  The  disappointment 
which  I  should  bring  to  friends  by  this  relinquishment,  stood 
full  before  me.  And  yet  with  all  this  sacrifice  on  the  one  hand, 
and  all  this  contempt  on  the  other,  I  chose  to  be  a  minister. 
I  hugged  the  cross.  And  though  the  age  of  missions  had  not 
yet  dawned,  I  well  remember  that,  in  Dr.  Craft's  chamber, 
that  memorable  afternoon,  I  felt  that  I  should  be  willing  to 
spend  my  days  among  the  pagans  of  the  wilderness,  if  such 
should  be  the  will  of  God. 

Shortly  after  this  he  commenced  his  theological 
studies  under  the  direction  of  the  Reverend  Dr. 
Jonathan  Edwards  of  New-Haven,  afterwards 
President  of  Union  College.  While  attending  to 
his  duties  as  an  instructor,  he  pursued  the  course  of 
reading  which  Dr.  Edwards  pointed  out,  and  wrote 
extensively  on  his  system  of  theological  questions. 

In  the  spring  of  1792  he  joined  the  congregational 
church  at  Derby,  and  soon  after  left  the  academy 
and  returned  to  East-Haddam,  where  he  had  the 
smallpox.  That  disorder  having  left  his  eyes  weak, 
he  spent  part  of  the  summer  at  his  father's  house. 
Here  he  found  himself  in  peculiarly  trying  circum- 
stances. He  was  the  only  professor  of  religion  in 
a  family  of  ten ;  and  neither  his  regard  for  his  rela- 
tives, nor  his  convictions  of  duty,  would  suffer  him 


SETTLEMENT    AT    NEW-HARTFORD.  7 

to  remain  silent  upon  what  was  with  himself  the 
all-engrossing  subject.  He  conversed  with  them 
earnestly  and  affectionately,  beseeching  them  with 
tears  to  attend  to  the  things  that  belonged  to  their 
peace;  and  the  event  proved  that  his  labors  and 
struggles  in  their  behalf  were  not  in  vain.  Nor  was 
his  influence  confined  to  his  own  family;  for  he 
statedly  attended  a  prayer  meeting  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, at  which  those  who  were  much  older  in  the 
christian  life  than  himself  found  themselves  at  once 
quickened  and  edified  by  his  fervent  prayers  and 
thrilling  addresses. 

The  latter  part  of  the  summer  and  most  of  the 
autumn  he  passed  at  New-Haven,  completing  his 
theological  studies.  He  was  hcensed  to  preach,  by 
the  West  Association  of  New-Haven  County,  on 
the  last  day  of  October.  Early  in  November  he 
returned  to  his  father's  house,  and  on  the  evening 
of  the  next  day  accompanied  his  youngest  sister  to 
a  prayer  meeting  at  the  place  where  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  attend.  When  she  left  the  meeting 
she  took  his  arm,  and  burst  into  tears,  saying,  "  The 
singing  of  those  christians  convinces  me  that  they 
have  something  which  I  want."  That,  as  he  after- 
wards declared,  was  to  him  a  moment  of  great  tri- 
umph. When  they  arrived  at  home,  his  father's 
family,  and  his  brother's  family  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, were  made  acquainted  with  the  fact ;  and 
while  his  sister  lay  weeping  in  anguish  of  spirit, 
he  was  making  his  appeals  to  those  around  him. 
"  That,"  said  he,  "  was  the  beginning  of  American 
revivals,  so  far  as  they  fell  under  my  personal  ob- 


PREVIOUS    TO    HIS 


servation ;  and  from  that  moment  I  know  they  have 
never  ceased."  His  youngest  sister,  his  mother, 
his  brother's  wife,  and  several  others  of  the  family 
were  brought  to  hope  in  God's  forgiving  mercy ; 
and  before  any  breach  was  made  in  the  domestic 
circle,  all  were  members  of  the  church  but  two. 

His  first  sermon  was  preached  November  10, 
1792,  at  Hadlyme,  in  the  pulpit  of  his  venerable 
friend  under  whose  tuition  he  had  been  fitted  for 
college.  In  January  succeeding  he  commenced  his 
labors  at  New-Salem,  a  small  village  about  seven 
miles  from  his  father's  house,  and  continued  there 
till  the  last  of  May.  His  preaching  was  almost 
immediately  attended  by  manifest  tokens  of  the 
presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  A  revival  of  great 
power  commenced,  and  a  church  was  gathered 
where  there  had  not  been  one  for  more  than  forty 
years.  In  New-Salem,  and  the  parts  of  East  Had- 
dam  and  Lyme  adjacent  to  it,  about  one  hundred 
were  hopefully  added  to  the  Lord. 

In  the  early  part  of  June,  1793,  he  commenced 
preaching  at  Farmington  as  a  candidate  for  settle- 
ment. The  manner  in  which  he  was  there  received, 
and  the  circumstances  which  prevented  his  becom- 
ing the  pastor  of  the  church,  may  be  seen  from  the 
following  extract  of  a  letter  from  the  Rev.  Noah 
Porter,  D.  D.  then  a  member,  now  the  minister,  of 
the  congregation  to  which  Mr.  Griffin  was  called. 

"  There  are  few  men  whom  I  remember  with  more  affec- 
tion than  Dr.  Griffin.  He  was  the  first  minister  of  Christ  of 
whose  preaching  I  have  any  distinct  recollection,  or  from 
whom  I  received  any  deep  and  permanent  sense  of  divine 
things.     I  was  twelve  years  old  when  he  preached  in  this 


SETTLEMENT    AT    NEW-H ARTFORJ).  9 

town;  and  I  remember  his  person,  attitude,  dress,  modulations 
of  voice,  and  some  of  his  texts  and  illustrations,  as  though 
they  were  presented  but  yesterday.  Simplicity  and  impres- 
siveness  you  know  were  remarkable  characteristics  of  his 
preaching.  All  was  on  a  level  with  the  capacity  of  a  child. 
It  was  not  till  two  or  three  years  after  this  that  I  began  to 
consider  myself  a  christian ;  but  the  impressions  of  truth  which 
I  received  from  hira  have  probably  contributed  more  to  make 
me  what  I  am,  (so  far  as  there  is  any  thing  good  belonging 
to  me,)  than  what  I  have  received  by  means  of  any  other 
man. 

"In  the  year  1796,  a  committee  of  the  church,  of  which 
the  late  Governor  Treadwell  was  a  member,  was  appointed  to 
draw  up  '  a  compendious  history  of  the  church  from  its  ori- 
gin '  to  that  time.  This  was  done  by  Gov.  Treadwell ;  and 
the  extract  which  I  am  about  to  give  you,  contains  the  an- 
swers to  some  of  the  inquiries  suggested  in  your  letter.  For 
several  years  previous  to  Dr.  Griffin's  introduction  to  this  pul- 
pit, the  society  had  been  divided;  and  the  mutual  animosities 
of  the  parties  were  sometimes  violent ;  first  relative  to  Mr.  01- 
cott,  for  some  years  pastor  of  the  church ;  and  after  his  dis- 
mission, relative  to  Mr.  Jonathan  Brown,  a  candidate  for  the 
ministry,  who  preached  here  immediately  before  Dr.  Griffin, 
and  had  warm  admirers  in  the  society,  but  to  the  greater  and 
better  part  of  the  church  was  unacceptable.  'Mr.  Brown,' 
the  record  says,  'preached  here  till  March,  1793,'  and  adds, 
'  After  he  had  left  us  several  efforts  were  made  by  his  friends 
to  recall  him,  but  without  success.  The  society  then  invited 
Mr.  Edward  Dorr  Griffin  to  supply  the  pulpit.  He  according- 
ly supplied  it  until  December  then  next,  with  great  ability  and 
reputation ;  when,  having  been  invited  by  the  society,  the 
church  called  him  to  the  work  of  the  ministry  almost  unani- 
mously ;  and  temporalities  being  adjusted,  he  accepted  the 
invitation  in  April,  1794 ;  and  in  May  following  a  council  was 
called  to  ordain  him.  But  a  formidable  opposition,  consisting 
chiefly  of  those  who  felt  aggrieved  at  the  loss  of  Mr.  Brown 
and  of  those  who  differed  from  Mr.  G.  and  the  church  on  the 

Vol.  I.  2 


10  PREVIOUS    TO    HIS    SETTLEMENT,   <fcc. 

subject  of  baptism  and  the  doctrines  of  grace,  remonstrated 
before  the  council;  which,  after  a  hearing,  determined  not  to 
proceed,  principally  by  reason  of  objections  against  some  of 
the  members  of  the  council,  and  against  the  form  of  the  con- 
tract between  the  society  and  Mr.  Griffin.  Wherefore,  as  no 
decision  was  had  on  the  merits,  the  church  in  the  month  of 
June  following  voted  to  call  a  second  council  to  ordain  Mr. 
Griffin,  with  which  vote  the  society  concurred.  Accordingly 
another  council  was  convened ;  and  the  opposers  persevering 
in  their  eflbits,  laid  in  sundry  unfounded  charges  against  Mr, 
Griffin,  and  the  proofs  not  being  prepared,  the  council  ad- 
journed: and  being  again  convened,  and  the  evidences  taken, 
Mr.  Griffin  was  acquitted  with  honor,  and  his  character  fully 
vindicated.  But  the  gloomy  prospect  before  him  induced  Mr. 
Griffin  in  that  stage  of  the  business  to  request  the  council  not 
to  proceed  to  ordain  him,  if  they  judged  he  could  fairly  be  re- 
leased from  the  obligations  of  his  contract ;  and  accordingly 
the  council,  on  consultation,  thought  proper  to  proceed  no 
further.'  " 

In  July  and  August,  1794,  he  preached  several 
sabbaths  at  Middlebury,  Conn,  where  he  introduced 
meetings  on  week  days  as  usual,  and  was  instru- 
mental of  the  hopeful  conversion  of  several  indivi- 
duals. He  also  supplied  three  other  places  for  a 
short  time  previous  to  the  commencement  of  his 
labors  at  New-Hartford.  In  referring  to  his  views 
at  that  period  of  life,  he  says, 

I  felt  it  to  be  a  principal  recommendation  of  a  place  as  my 
residence,  that  the  people  would  allow  me  to  hold  as  many 
meetings  as  I  pleased.  I  held  extra  meetings  in  every  place 
-where  I  preached,  which  was  a  new  thing  at  that  day.  What 
then  appeared  strange,  bating  some  youthful  indiscretions,  has 
long  since  become  the  general  usage.  I  had  an  opportunity 
to  see  the  whole  field  of  death  before  a  bone  began  to  move. 
And  no  one  who  comes  upon  the  stage  forty  years  afterwards 
can  have  any  idea  of  the  state  of  things  at  that  time. 


CHAPTER  11. 

HIS  RESIDENCE  AT  NEW-HARTFORD. 

Mr.  Griffin  was  ordained  and  installed  pastor 
of  the  congregational  church  at  New-Hartford, 
June  4, 1795,  having  supplied  them  for  some  months 
in  the  capacity  of  a  candidate.  Almost  immediately- 
after  he  commenced  his  labors,  there  was  an  in- 
creased attention  to  religion  among  his  people,  and 
a  revival  of  considerable  power  succeeded,  which 
resulted  in  the  addition  of  about  fifty  persons  to  the 
churcli^ 

On  the  17th  of  May,  1796,  he  was  married  to 
Frances  Huntington,  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Doctor 
Joseph  Huntington,  of  Coventry,  and  niece  and 
adopted  daughter  of  Governor  Samuel  Hunting- 
ton, of  Norwich,  Conn,  formerly  President  of  Con- 
gress, and  one  of  the  Signers  of  the  Declaration 
of  American  Independence.  Doctor  H.  and  Go- 
vernor H.  were  brothers,  and  married  sisters.  Go- 
vernor H.  had  no  children;  and  Mrs.  Griffin's 
mother  dying  when  she  was  two  years  old,  gave 
her  and  her  brother  Samuel  (afterwards  Governor 
of  Ohio,)  to  her  sister  and  her  sister's  husband  the 
Governor,  who  brought  them  up  as  their  own  child- 
ren, and  made  them  their  heirs. 


12  RESIDENCE    AT 

In  the  year  1797  he  commenced  a  regular  jour- 
nal of  his  christian  experience,  which  he  continued, 
not  however  without  frequent  and  sometimes  pro- 
tracted interruptions,  till  the  close  of  life.  Under 
date  of  July  12th  of  that  year,  he  writes  thus: 

This  tlay  ever  memorable  to  my  soul  for  the  commence- 
ment of  these  memoirs,  has  been  set  apart  as  a  day  of  secret 
prayer  and  fasting.  It  has  pleased  God,  I  hope,  to  return  to 
me  after  a  painful  absence  of  several  months,  and  after  I  had 
almost  despaired  of  so  great  a  blessing.  May  I  be  humbly 
thankful  all  my  days  that  the  Lord,  as  I  hope,  has  come  to 
look  up  and  bring  home  his  long  lost  wandering  sheep.  May 
the  pains  of  absence  teach  me  to  wander  no  more.  Alas,  how 
have  new  relations,  and  the  new  cares  of  a  family  state,  drawn 
my  mind  away  from  God.  There  are  more  dangers  in  every 
pleasing  earthly  scene  than  the  inexperienced  are  aware  of. 
Adversity,  I  find,  is  a  much  safer  state  than  prosperity.  May 
adversities  uninterrupted  be  my  lot,  if  a  humble  dependance 
on  God  and  sweet  communion  with  him  can  be  enjoyed  on 
no  easier  terms.  Sure  I  am  that  the  possession  of  the  whole 
world  for  the  same  space  of  time  could  not  produce  so  much 
happiness,  as  the  absence  of  God  for  fourteen  months  past  has 
produced  misery.  The  conclusion  is,  that  all  the  world  can- 
not countervail  the  loss  of  God.  I  have  now  lived  in  God's 
world  more  than  twenty-seven  years.  It  is  just  about  six 
years  since.  I  hope,  he  effectually  turned  my  attention  to  re- 
ligion ;  and  yet  (with  regret  I  say  it)  I  have  never  kept  any 
journal  of  God's  dealings  with  me  before  now.  By  this  ne- 
glect I  Ijelieve  I  have  lost  much.  May  God  enable  me  to  be 
more  faithful  in  futiue.  I  find  none  of  my  own  exercises 
committed  to  writing,  except  a  covenant  which  contains  sun- 
dry resolutions,  bearing  date  April  20th,  1793,  with  a  space 
left  to  insert  new  ones;  all  which,  with  some  small  alterations, 
I  wUl  transcribe,  and  now  solemnly  renew  in  the  presence  of 
God. 


NEW-HARTFORD.  13 

Resolved,  in  the  strengtli  of  Chiistj  to  lay  aside  vain 
conversation,  puerile  behavior,  excessive  levity,  pride  of  life, 
improper  exertions  to  please  the  world,  the  lusts  of  the  flesh, 
reflections  on  things  unlawful  to  speak  or  act,  impatience  or 
discontent  at  the  dispensations  of  providence,  gloom  and  de- 
jection contrary  to  the  direction  "  Rejoice  evermore,"  slander, 
flattery  and  deceit,  self-sufiicient  airs,  authoritative  or  dogma- 
tic assertions  of  my  own  opinion,  and  every  thing  opposed  to 
an  humble  deportment ;  petulance,  harshness,  and  impatient 
expressions  in  my  family  or  elsewhere;  want  of  attention  to 
please  and  to  interchange  civilities  from  indolence,  pride  and 
sourness  under  the  garb  of  deadness  to  the  world,  careless  dis- 
regard of  the  minute  principles  of  prudence  and  correct  beha- 
viour ;  waste  of  time,  and  whatever  is  inconsistent  with  the 
character  of  a  disciple  and  follower  of  Jesus, — a  minister  of 
the  everlasting  gospel, — a  guide  and  example  of  souls,  to 
whom  those  are  committed  for  whom  Christ  died:  remember- 
ing that  the  eyes  of  a  censorious  world  and  of  a  holy  God  are 
upon  me,  and  that  for  every  breach  of  this  covenant  I  must 
give  an  account. 

Resolved  at  the  close  of  every  day  to  repeat  the  above  re- 
solutions, and  compare  my  conduct  through  the  day  there- 
with. 

Resolved  that  it  is  best  ordinarily  to  mingle  more  praises 
and  thanksgivings  with  our  devotions  than  is  usually  done. 

Resolved  generally  to  close  evening  devotions  with  fixed 
contemplations  on  the  glory  of  God,  of  Christ,  of  Heaven,  on 
the  vanity  of  the  world,  &c. 

Resolved  to  devote  a  portion  of  time  on  every  Sabbath 
morning  to  contemplations  on  God  and  Christ,  and  Heaven, 
and  divine  love,  and  the  great  things  commemorated  by  the 
day ;  on  the  solemnity  of  divine  worship, — on  the  importance 
of  the  place  which  I  am  to  fill  in  the  course  of  the  day ;  on 
the  worth  of  souls,  and  the  weight  of  the  charge  committed 
to  me,  (fee. 

Resolved  to  devote  a  portion  of  time  every  Sabbath  eve- 
ning, to  examine  into  the  manner  in  which  the  duties  of  the 


14  RESIDENCE    AT 

day  liave  been  performed, — to  apply  the  preaching  to  myself, 
and  to  enter  into  a  fixed,  full  self-examination. 

Resolved  toconfinemyself  generally  to  practical  books  on 
the  Sabbath,  and  when  possible,  avoid  writing  sermons  on 
that  day. 

The  experience  of  more  than  four  years  has  convinced  me 
that  '-'he  that  trusteth  to  his  own  heart  is  a  fool."  When 
these  resolutions  were  written,  they  assumed  the  air  of  assu- 
rance that  they  would  be  kept.  But  alas,  I  find  I  have  more 
reason  to  be  diffident  of  my  own  heart  than  I  was  sensible  of 
at  that  time.  I  would  now,  with  dependance  on  the  strength 
of  Christ  alone,  form  some  7ieio  resolutions. 

Resolved  to  set  apart,  as  often  as  is  convenient,  days  for 
private  prayer  and  fasting. 

Resolved  to  spend  as  much  time  as  possible  in  making 
religious  visits  to  my  people,  especially  to  the  sick  and  afflict- 
ed, and  to  spend  as  little  time  as  possible  in  visits  where  reli- 
gious conversation  cannot  be  introduced,  and  to  attend  as 
many  rehgious  meetings  as  are  convenient  out  of  season. 

Resolved  to  pay  particular  attention  to  the  religious  in- 
struction of  the  children,  and  to  take  measures  to  catechise 
them. 

Resolved  to  be  much  in  prayer  for  my  people,  to  set  good 
examples  before  them,  and  not  conduct  so  as  to  grieve  the 
Spirit  of  God  away  from  us. 

Resolved,  as  a  husband,  to  avoid  all  petulancy  and  pre- 
tensions to  authority  and  superiority, — to  maintain  a  manly 
tenderness, — to  be  much  in  religious  conversation  with  my 
wife, — to  seek  to  help  her  onward  in  the  divine  life, — to  pray 
for  her, — to  avoid  idolatrous  affections,  and  endeavor  to  sup- 
port her,  by  benevolent  sympathy,  under  the  unavoidable  trials 
of  life. 

Resolved,  as  the  head  of  a  family,  to  avoid  harshness 
and  severity  of  expression  or  discipline,  to  mingle  decision 
with  tenderness  in  order  to  unite  in  the  minds  of  the  children 
respectful  fear  and  affectionate  confidence;  to  reprove  in  a  way 


NEW-HARTPORD.  15 

to  convict,  to  talk  frequently  with  them  on  religion,  and  to 
pray  for  them. 

Resolved  to  avoid  a  stoical  severity  in  my  deportment,  and 
to  win,  by  a  kind,  affable  address,  the  confidence  and  friend- 
ship of  those  whom  it  is  my  duty  to  serve. 

Resolved  to  keep  up  an  epistolary  correspondence  with  a 
number  of  pious  faithful  friends,  and  not  forget  them  in  my 
prayers. 

Resolved  to  avoid  intimacies  with  the  wicked. 

Resolved  to  retire  to  rest  by  nine,  to  arise  (unless  it  be- 
comes necessary  to  have  different  hours  in  the  winter)  by  five ; 
to  devote  to  reading  and  transcribing  from  the  Bible  and  to 
devotion  all  the  time  until  eight ;  exercise  until  nine ;  study 
until  twelve ;  rest  until  two ;  study  until  five ;  exercise,  rest 
or  visit,  until  night ;  necessary  visits  and  company  excepted. 

Resolved  to  begin  early  in  the  week  to  write  my  sermons, 
and  to  endeavor  to  keep  some  sermons  beforehand. 

All  which  resolutions  may  God,  in  his  boundless  mercy, 
enable  me  to  keep  unto  the  end,  unless  he  shall  convince  me 
of  the  propriety  of  making  some  alterations  in  them.     Amen. 

Sabbath.  July  16.  I  find  that  one  great  cause  of  coldness 
and  barrenness  in  religion  is  the  indulgence  of  vain,  worldly, 
romantic  thoughts.     Therefore, 

Resolved  to  employ  my  mind,  when  not  engaged  on  other 
necessary  subjects,  in  prcfitable  contemplations. 

How  much  more  knowledge  might  I  store  up  by  a  due  ob- 
servance of  this  rule  one  year,  than  I  have  gained  in  all  my 
life.  May  God  enable  me  to  keep  this  resolution,  for  without 
him  I  have  learned  that  I  can  do  nothing.  I  find  that  my 
spiritual  enemies  will  never  be  overcome  without  a  most  dili- 
gent watch  kept  up  against  them,  and  without  a  life  of  prayer. 
I  would,  therefore,  though  my  own  weakness  is  evident,  wish 
to  Resolve  evermore  to  "  watch  and  'pray  that  I  enter  not 
into  temptation." 

Wednesday^  July  2^th.  Last  night  a  young  man  came  to 
converse  with  me,  who  I  never  knew  was  serious,  but  who 
has  at  turns  been  anxious  for  himself  these  several  years,  and 


16  RESIDENCE    AT 

has,  in  the  course  of  the  last  two  months,  indulged  a  hope. 
The  occasion,  I  must  say,  was  exceedingly  joyful  and  anima- 
ting to  me.  It  encouraged  me  to  hope  that  God  was  again 
returning  among  us.  After  he  went  away  I  had  the  most 
precious  season  that  I  have  had  these  fifteen  months.  My 
soul  went  forth,  as  I  really  thought,  in  prayer  for  this  precious 
people,  and  for  Zion  at  large.  My  greatest  desire  seemed  to 
be  for  these  objects.  I  could  scarcely  think  or  pray  for  any 
thing  else.  I  was,  as  I  frequently  have  been  of  late,  affected 
with  the  great  things  which  God  is  doing  for  Zion  at  the  pre- 
sent day.     O  may  thy  kingdom  come ! 

tSabbath  evejiing,  July  ^Qth.  I  view  it  a  matter  of  so  much 
importance  to  ascertain  with  precision  my  true  character,  that 
I  have 

Resolved  to  write  down  carefully  the  result  of  every  ex- 
amination, whenever  I  can  bring  my  mind  to  any  point ;  that, 
by  a  retrospective  survey  of  my  exercises,  I  may  ahvays  have 
before  my  eyes  the  summary  of  the  evidence  in  favor  of  my 
adoption.  In  this  part  of  my  memoirs  I  resolve  to  observe,  if 
possible,  a  more  scrupulous  exactness  than  in  any  other.  God 
forbid  that  I  should  flatter  myself  where  flattery  may  prove 
everlastingly  fatal ! 

Examination.  I  have  been  endeavoring  to  determine  the 
grounds  of  my  uneasiness  in  view  of  my  conduct  this  day. 
Can  say  no  more  than  this :  It  gives  me  pain  that  I  have  act- 
ed such  an  unworthy,  inconsistent  part,  by  which  leanness 
has  been  brought  into  my  own  soul,  and  my  ministrations 
rendered  comparatively  useless.  It  is  difficult  to  trace  my  mo- 
tives any  farther.  My  exercises  are  indistinct.  Alas,  if  I  had 
lived  more  at  home,  I  should  have  been  more  acquainted  with 
myself.  I  once  pursued  this  duty  with  more  faithfulness,  un- 
til it  became  comparatively  easy  to  search  about  my  heart ; 
but  it  has  now  been  so  long  neglected,  that  I  find  myself  a 
stranger  at  home,  and  have  forgotten  the  way  around  the  dif- 
ferent apartments  of  my  mind. 

It  seems  at  times  perfectly  incredible,  and  almost  impossible, 
that  so  much  sin  can  consist  with  grace.     I  have  lately  had 


NEW-HARTFORD.  17 

more  doubts  than  before.  My  doubts  increase  accordingly  as 
I  neglect  the  duties  of  prayer,  contemplation,  watchfulness, 
and  examination. 

August  2d,  Wednesday  morning.  This  day  is  appointed 
to  be  set  apart  by  me  in  company  with  some  of  the  neighbor- 
ing ministers,  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer.  I  would  wish 
through  the  day, 

(1.)  To  banish  every  worldly  care  and  thought. 
(2.)  Strive  to  possess  myself  of  a,  deep  sense  of  my  sin. 
(3.)  As  the  chief  object  of  our  prayers  is  to  be,  by  express 
agreement,  the  advancement  of  Zion,  I  would  wish  to  pos- 
sess myself  of  views  of  the  worth  of  the  church,  and  of  the 
importance  of  her  being  advanced. 

(4.)  Guard  myself,  when  leading  in  prayer,  against  a  wish 
to  appear  artificially  ardent  or  humble. 

(5.)  Guard  against  introducing  or  joining  in  any  conversa- 
tion, even  though  it  may  be  of  the  religious  kind,  which  shall 
tend  to  take  my  mind  off  from  the  immediate  business  of  the 
day. 
(6.)  Strive  to  ask  all  truly  in  the  name  of  Christ. 
Evening.  Upon  a  review  of  my  exercises  througli  the  dav, 
I  find  much  cause  for  shame  and  humiliation,  and  that  it  is 
much  easier  to  make  resolutions  than  to  keep  them. 

Sahhath  morning,  August  %th.  Expect  to  preach  to-day 
in  opposition  to  what  is  commonly  called  the  half-way  prac- 
tice; to  which  many  of  the  people  are  strongly  attached,  and 
which  threatens  to  raise  disturbances  among  us,  the  Lord 
knows  how  serious.  Have  also  to  administer  the  Lord's  sup- 
per. It  is  my  desire  this  day  not  to  be  actuated  by  a  wilful, 
haughty  resolution  to  carry  my  point ;  not  to  exhibit  any  im- 
prudent, effeminate  weakness  or  fear;  to  exercise  a  deep  con- 
cern that  the  people  may  walk  in  the  true  order  of  the  gos- 
pel, and  that  they  may  not  break  to  pieces  and  injure  them- 
selves. I  wish  to  go  to  the  sanctuary  under  a  sense  of  my 
own  unworthiness,  and  apprehensive  that  my  imprudences, 
negligences,  and  unfaithfulness,  may  have  given  occasion  to 
the  discontents  which  appear.  I  wish  to  feel  humility  and 
Vol.  I.  o 


18  RESIDENCE  AT 

fervency  in  prayer;  to  have  close,  fixed  attention  in  singing 
God's  praise;  and  at  the  sacrament  to  exercise  humility,  peni- 
tence, and  faith,  and  make  a  renewed  dedication  of  myself  to 
God. 

Sabbath  evening.  Have  reason  to  bless  God  that  he  has 
given  me  a  better  Sabbath  than  I  have  been  wont  to  have. 
But  I  fear  I  have  not  possessed  a  sufficiently  tender,  humble 
spirit;  that  I  was  desirous  to  convince  my  people  that  I  was 
not  afraid  of  them.  Have  felt  the  operation  of  spiritual  pride 
in  consequence  of  some  enlargements.  This,  alas,  is  no  new 
thing. 

I  fear  I  have  been  too  willing  that  the  people  should  send 
me  away,  under  the  notion  of  getting  a  better  place.  1  have 
endeavored  to  correct  myself,  and  have  made  the  following 
resolutions: — 

(1.)  Let  me  not  be  so  selfish  as  to  be  unaffected  with  what 
will  injure  the  people,  out  of  respect  to  private  interest.  (2.) 
Let  me  not  wish  myself  removed  from  a  place  in  which  God 
has  placed  me  and  blessed  my  labors.  (3.)  Let  me  not  do 
any  thing  to  effect  a  dissolution  of  our  connexion;  but  be  as 
faithful,  prayerful,  prudent,  and  humble,  as  though  this  was 
the  only  place  in  which  I  could  labor;  and  then,  if  the  Lord 
send  me  away,  I  can  go  with  a  good  conscience,  with  good 
reputation,  and  with  his  blessing.  (4.)  Let  me  be  humble, 
patient,  and  resigned  in  all  my  conversation  on  the  subject. 

Examination.  Have  tried  myself  on  the  subject  of  leav- 
ing this  people,  and  think  I  can  say  that  I  would  not,  by  any 
means,  exchange  this  for  a  more  agreeable  place,  without 
God's  approbation  and  direction:  Because,  (1.)  I  dare  not  run 
away  from  a  place  in  which  he  has  put  me,  for  fear  of  carry- 
ing his  curse  with  me.  (2.)  I  would  be  where  I  can  be  the 
most  useful,  and  that  he  can  best  determine.  I  think  I  would 
rather  be  useful  in  a  poor  place  than  useless  in  another.  The 
interest  which  I  am  to  take  care  of  seems  too  great  to  be  sa- 
crificed to  private  considerations.  Besides,  I  feel  as  though 
the  pleasantest  place  without  the  approbation  and  presence  of 
God,  would  be  very  unpleasant.      "Give  what  thou  canst, 


NEW-HARTFORD.  19 

without  thee  we  are  poor,  and  with  thee  rich,  take  what  thou 
wilt  away." 

I  think  I  can  farther  say  that  I  would  rather  the  Lord 
should  determine  all  the  circumstances  of  my  life  than  choose 
for  myself;  because  this  will  conduce  most  to  the  general 
good,  and  to  my  own  happiness.  I  think  the  first  motive  is 
the  strongest.  I  think  that  I  wish  the  Lord,  whose  I  am  and 
who  has  an  important  interest  to  promote,  to  direct  where  and 
how  I  shall  serve  him.  I  wish  to  be  at  his  disposal  and  com- 
mand. I  feel  it  a  happiness  that  I  am  in  his  hands,  and  that 
he  will  dispose  of  all  things  so  as  best  to  answer  his  most  ex- 
cellent purposes.  "The  Lord  reigneth,  let  the  earth  rejoice."' 
If  afflictions  will  make  me  better,  I  know  I  am  willing  to 
bear  them ;  or  if  they  will  help  forward  the  redeeming  plan,  I 
think  I  am  wiUing  God  should  impose  them,  at  least  to  a  con- 
siderable degree.  My  heart  is  deceitful — I  dare  not  go  any 
further.  And  yet  I  must  say,  it  seems  that,  feeling  as  I  now 
do,  I  should  not  object  if  the  Lord  should  take  any  thing 
which  I  have,  if  it  would  promote  that  cause  w^hich  Christ 
died  to  promote,  which  is  the  cause  of  all  truth  and  of  all  hap- 
piness. 

Sahhath  morning,  August  13th.  I  expect  to  preach  this 
morning  from  Genesis,  v.  24.  The  subject  has  been  sweet  to 
me.  I  desire  (L)  to  deliver  it  with  a  sincere  desire  to  main- 
tain in  future  a  more  close  walk  with  God  myself,  and  to  per- 
suade others  to  do  so  likewise.  (2.)  To  avoid  the  pride  which 
is  too  apt  to  arise  from  the  belief  that  I  am  delivering  a  good 
sermon. 

From  some  symptoms  discovered  in  the  place,  and  from  the 
increased  desires  of  my  own  mind,  I  have  had  some  hopes 
that  my  sermons  this  day  will  be  blessed.  The  weather  how- 
ever looks  so  unpromising,  that  I  fear  few  will  attend  meeting. 
But  I  desire  to  go,  not  discouraged  at  this,  but  believing  that 
God  can  make  it  a  most  glorious  day, — a  day  of  extensive 
good,  though  the  meeting  be  thin.  O  Lord,  in  mercy,  I  en. 
treat  thee,  grant  me  this  desire  of  my  mind  ! 

Noon.  My  thoughts  have  this  forenoon  been  scattered,  my 


20  RESIDENCE  AT 

mind  for  the  most  part  dark  and  dead,  though  possessed,  1 
hope,  of  some  sweetness  in  the  duties  of  the  sanctuary.  How 
much  need  have  I  to  preach  to  myself  the  things  which  I 
preach  to  others!  O  that  I  might  in  future  maintain  a  more 
intimate  walk  with  God. 

This  afternoon  I  expect  to  preach  on  the  importance  of  the 
sold,  from  Matt.  xvi.  26.  May  I  be  influenced  through  all  the 
exercises  by  an  humble  concern  for  souls,  and  not  be  unmind- 
ful of  my  own  vineyard. 

Evenins:'  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  I  hope  I  had  this  after- 
noon some  sense  of  the  worth  of  souls,  and  some  desires  for 
their  salvation.  But  yet  much  self  was  mingled  with  my  ex- 
ercises. Much  of  my  apparent  zeal,  I  fear,  arose  from  pride 
and  animal  affection.  If  souls  are  so  important  as  I  have  re- 
presented, may  I  in  future  be  more  concerned  for  my  own  and 
for  those  committed  to  me;  and  not  sleep  away  my  life  in 
security,  and  amuse  myself  with  toys,  or  at  best  with  vain 
speculations,  while  thousands  for  whom  Christ  died  are  perish- 
ino-  all  around  me.  I  own  I  have  not  a  realizing  sense  of 
these  things. 

Examination.  The  greatest  desires  of  my  mind  at  pre- 
sent seem  to  be,  (1.)  that  God  would  reduce  me  to  a  mild, 
tender,  sweet-tempered,  amiable  Christian,  in  all  my  deport- 
ment towards  my  family,  towards  my  people,  and  towards  the 
world.  (2.)  That  he  w^ould  direct  me  to  adopt  the  best  possi- 
ble plan  to  promote  the  immortal  interests  of  this  people,  and 
to  spend  my  time,  and  to  exercise  my  faculties,  so  as  to  an- 
swer, in  the  happiest  manner,  the  purposes  of  my  existence- 
(3.)  That  he  would  come  down  among  this  people  with  the 
powerful  infiuence?  of  his  Spirit.  It  is  my  hearty  desire  that 
he  would  bow  the  hearts  of  my  bitterest  enemies  with  the  in- 
fluences of  his  religion.  I  find  nothing  in  my  heart  opposed 
to  an  affectionate  wish  that  they  may  be  happy  in  Christ.  I 
should  exceedingly  rejoice  in  an  opportunity  of  pouring  into 
their  distressed  souls  the  consolations  of  the  gospel,  and  lead- 
ing them  to  the  Saviour. 

I  feel  greatly  pained  with  the  opposite  of  a  soft,  mild,  sweet 


NEW-HARTFORD.  21 

disposition.  I  am  firmly  persuaded  that  if  habits  of  good  tem- 
per are  not  formed  in  youth,  they  never  will  be,  without  al- 
most a  miracle ;  and  age  must  be  soured  and  ruffled  with  No- 
vember storms.     Therefore,  with  great  seriousness,  I  have 

Resolved  to  avoid  every  appearance  of  impatience  in  the 
manner  of  my  conversation  with  all,  and  never  to  consider 
any  circumstances  sufficient  to  justify  a  departure  from  this 
rule. 

Further,  I  do  firmly  believe  that  if  mild,  tender,  lenient 
measures,  attended  at  times  with  unimpassioned  correction, 
and  followed  up  with  exhortation  and  prayer,  do  not  effect  the 
purposes  of  family  government,  nothing  will.     Therefore, 

Resolved,  never  to  speak  to  my  domestics  with  any  ap- 
pearance of  temper,  nor  adopt  a  system  of  harsh  treatment  of 
them,  but  to  speak  to  them  tenderly  and  mildly,  even  in  re- 
proof; and  not  to  undertake  to  reprove  them  for  every  little 
slip,  lest  they  grow  hardened. 

I  must  fix  it  in  my  mind  not  to  expect  every  thing  according 
to  my  wishes  in  those  with  whom  I  have  intercourse.  Others 
have  to  bear  things  in  me,  and  why  should  not  /  bear  with 
the  weaknesses  of  others?  It  is  no  excuse  for  me  to  lose  my 
temper,  that  others  do  wrong. 

Thursday,  August  17th.  Resolved,  (extraordinaries  ex- 
cepted,) to  begin  to  write  for  the  Sabbath  on  Monday,  to  com- 
plete my  sermons  Monday  and  Tuesday^  and  to  devote  Thurs- 
day to  visit  my  people  for  religious  purposes;  or  if  any  thing, 
when  I  am  not  on  a  journey,  and  when  no  fast,  thanksgiving, 
ministers'  meeting,  or  concert  occurs,  should  prevent  my  visit- 
ing that  day,  to  spend  two  days  the  next  week. 

Resolved,  for  the  present,  to  devote  the  first  Wednesday 
in  every  other  month,  viz.  January,  March,  May,  July,  Sep- 
tember, November,  to  correspond  with  christian  friends  and  to 
pray  for  them,  though  they  must  not  be  forgotten  daily. 

Resolved  to  read  some  devotional  piece,  besides  the  scrip- 
tures, every  day. 

Resolved  to  set  apart  some  day  as  near  as  convenient  to 
the  6th  of  January,  (my  birth-day  and  the  commencement  of 


22  RESIDENCE  AT 

a  new  year,)  and  to  the  6th  of  April,  (the  next  quarter,  and 
not  far  from  the  time  when  I  first  made  a  profession  of  reh- 
gion,  and  first  became  acquainted  with  her  whom  providence 
has  given  me  for  a  wife,)  and  to  the  6th  of  July,  (the  next 
quarter,  and  about  the  time  from  which  I  have  dated  what  I 
hope  was  a  saving  conversion,  and  about  the  time  of  com- 
mencing these  memoirs;  also  between  last  quarter  day  and 
this,  both  my  marriage  and  my  ordination  took  place;)  and 
to  the  6th  of  October,  (the  next  quarter  day,  and  not  far^from 
the  time  when  I  was  first  hcensed  to  preach  the  everlasting 
gospel,  and  also  about  the  time  of  first  coming  to  New-Hart- 
ford ;)  as  days  of  fasting  and  prayer.  On  these  days  I  pur- 
pose to  call  to  mind  the  events  above  enumerated  and  make 
suitable  reflections  on  them,  renew  the  dedication  of  myself  to 
God,  make  suitable  confessions  and  humiliations,  and  enter 
into  a  tiain  of  self-examination;  review  my  resolutions,  &c. 
Besides  these,  I  will  from  time  to  time  set  apart  days  for  spe- 
cial devotion,  as  God  shall  put  it  into  my  heart. 

Resolved  to  keep  a  book  in  which  to  insert  the  result  of 
the  intercourse  with  my  people,  in  my  visits,  and  any  names, 
or  cases,  or  memoranda,  which  shall  appear  useful  to  me  as  a 
minister  or  a  christian. 

Examination.  Sahhath  evening,  August  20th.  I  have 
been  this  evening  examining  my  feehngs  towards  God,  the 
law,  and  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  plan  of  salvation  by  him.  I 
have  asked  myself  such  questions  as  these:  Am  I  pleased  with 
a  God  who  sits  on  the  throne  of  the  universe,  governing  all 
matters  so  as  to  promote  the  highest  happiness  of  the  uni- 
verse; who,  in  the  exercise  of  infinite  benevolence,  has  en- 
tered on  a  system  of  operations  most  conducive  to  manifest 
and  diffuse  himself,  and  to  complete  a  kingdom  of  holy,  be- 
nevolent, and  happy  beings ;  who  is  perfectly  pure  and  holy ; 
and  who,  as  the  faithful  guardian  of  the  universe,  has  resolv- 
ed to.  punish  every  thing  which  opposes  its  happiness;  who  ab- 
hors every  sin,  even  mine;  who  has  manifested  his  abhor- 
rence of  sin  in  the  destruction  of  the  old  world,  Sodom,  &c. 
and  on  the  cross,  and  in  the  punishment  of  my  sins;  who  is 


NEW-HARTFORD.  23 

just,  merciful,  patient,  and  faithful;  who  has  made  discoveries 
of  these  perfections  in  the  gospel,  and  in  all  that  he  has  done 
for  Zion,  from  the  days  of  Adam;  who  requires  himself  to  be 
loved  and  respected  supremely  1  <fcc.  Do  I  love  the  law  which 
requires  perfect  benevolence  and  sinless  perfection,  and  con- 
demns for  every  transgression?  Would  I  wish  for  a  law  any 
wise  different?  Have  I  any  hopes  of  being  abl6  to  atone  for 
my  sins?  Am  I  pleased  with  the  character  and  offices  of 
Christ  and  the  way  of  salvation  by  him  ?  That  he  should 
have  all  the  praise  of  my  salvation,  and  that  I  should  be  ex- 
empt from  punishment  in  consequence  of  the  opportunity 
which  he  has  given  God  to  manifest,  in  his  treatment  of  him, 
his  abhorrence  of  my  sins?  &c.  And  after  the  most  serious 
and  elaborate  examination,  I  dare  not  come  to  any  fixed  con- 
clusion, though  I  hope  my  heart  is  pleased  with  this  represen- 
tation of  God,  and  the  law,  and  Christ.  I  think  I  feel 
ashamed  that  while  so  many  hearts  in  heaven  and  earth  are 
flaming  with  love  and  admiration  in  view  of  these  truths, 
mine  is  so  little  affected  by  them,  that  I  cannot  decide  whether 
I  love  them  or  not.  Yet  I  solemnly  determine  not  to  give  up 
the  examination  until  I  can  answer  decisively.  I  am  resolved 
to  pursue  it  to-morrow.  And  O,  may  the  Lord  give  me  light 
to  see  and  know  myself,  and  to  love  him  with  fervency. 

Examination.  Monday  evenings  Aug.  2\st.  This  morn- 
ing I  pursued  the  examination  which  was  left  unfinished  last 
night;  but  was  again  unable  to  come  to  any  fixed  conclusion. 
Have  been  on  the  subject,  at  turns,  through  the  day.  This 
evening  I  have  renewed  it  with  more  fixed  attention,  and 
blessed  be  God,  I  have  enjoyed  more  clearness  of  views,  by 
which  I  have  been  enabled  to  render  the  following  answers  to 
the  following  questions: 

Would  you  consent  to  see  your  house  in  ashes  and  to  be 
stripped  of  every  thing  on  earth  to  rescue  your  greatest  enemy 
from  an  eternal  hell,  and  to  secure  to  him  increafSiing  eternal 
glory? 

Yes,  certainly:  I  would  give  up  evejy  thing  that  I  could 
give  up,  of  an  earthly  nature,  for  this  purpose. 


24  RESIDENCE  AT 

Are  you  pleased  that  God  has  given  a  law  requiring  such  a 
temper  in  all? 

Surely  I  am.  What  a  most  beautiful  and  glorious  society 
does  such  a  law  tend  to  produce ! 

Does  not  God,  by  enacting  a  law  to  make  such  a  temper 
general,  act  like  an  excellent  being  ? 

Yes,  his  encouragement  of  such  a  temper  proves  him  to  be 
a  most  excellent  being. 

Does  not  the  manifestation  which  Christ  has  made  of  such 
a  temper,  cause  him  to  appear,  independently  of  gratitude,  an 
excellent  being? 

Yes,  benevolence  to  the  great  whole  looks  amiably,  let  it 
exist  where  it  may. 

If  the  law  is  such  an  excellent  rule,  does  it  not  look  desira- 
ble that  every  one  should  conform  to  it? 

Most  certainly  it  does.  What  beautiful  society  would  this 
produce  !  What  a  foundation  for  immortal  union,  love,  and 
happiness ! 

Does  it  not  appear  desirable  that,  in  order  to  sanctify  and 
honor  and  support  this  most  lovely  rule,  transgressions  of  it 
should  be  severely  frowned  upon  and  punished  ? 

It  seems  that  any  measures  which  conduce  to  the  universal, 
or  even  general  establishment  of  this  rule,  so  essential  to  the 
happiness  of  the  universe,  are  desirable. 

Since  it  would  have  tended  to  lessen  the  respectability  of 
this  rule,  had  my  transgressions  of  it  escaped  without  a  frown, 
am  I  pleased  with  the  idea  of  not  being  pardoned  but  in  con- 
sequence of  the  opportunity  which  was  given  on  the  cross  to 
manifest  this  frown  ? 

As  Christ  came  to  honor  and  magnify  that  lav/,  (which  he 
said  required  only  love  to  God  and  man,)  by  his  obedience  and 
death,  I  am  pleased  with  his  coming  into  the  world.  Further, 
I  am  willing  to  be  pardoned,  and  to  have  it  understood  that  I 
am  an  undeserving  rebel,  saved  by  sovereign  grace.  I  wish 
to  have  it  openly  declared  that  I  was  a  monstrous  rebel  in 
opposing  such  an  excellent  law,  in  order  that  the  law  may  be 
supported  and  sin  discountenanced.     I  should  wish  to  make 


NEAV-HARTPORD.  25 

the  declaration  myself,  and  condemn  my  conduct  before  three 
worlds,  if  there  was  no  other  way  to  have  it  condemned. 

Since  I  have  sinned,  and  since  it  must  be  known  in  order 
that  God's  righteousness  may  appear,  I  wish  to  have  it  public- 
ly understood  that  I  am  a  vile  undeserving  wretch  indebted  to 
boundless  grace  for  pardon.  1  wish  by  all  means  to  have  it 
understood  that  my  sins  are  not  winked  at,  and  that  God 
manifested  his  abhorrence  of  them  by  what  took  place  on  the 
cross,  and  that  it  was  in  consequence  of  this  manifestation  that 
he  gratified  his  grace  in  my  pardon,  and  also  in  consequence 
of  the  intercession  of  my  Advocate.  I  think  I  rejoice  in  Christ 
as  my  prophet,  priest,  and  king ;  and  can  with  pleasure  com- 
mit to  him  the  care  of  all  my  spiritual  interests. 

Does  not  the  behef  that  all  the  works  and  operations  of  God 
have  the  same  design  as  the  law,  viz.  to  promote  general  hap- 
piness, and  that  he  has  the  temper  required  in  the  law,  make 
him  appear  very  amiable  and  worthy  ? 

Most  lovely  and  glorious.  So  far  as  I  can  know  my  heart, 
this  is  the  God  whom  I  approve  and  love.  This  is  the  God 
whom  I  choose  for  my  everlasting  portion.  How  rich  is  the 
universe  in  containing  such  a  God  !  With  pleasing  adoration 
I  look  up  and  say,  Holy,  holyj  holy  is  the  Lord  of  hosts.  To 
him  be  glory  for  ever.  Amen. 

Examination.  Wed?iesday,  August  23d.  Since  Monday, 
God  has  appeared  as  sitting  on  the  top  of  the  universe,  and 
pouring  out  the  law  from  his  very  heart.  Methinks  I  could 
trace  this  golden  chain,  which  binds  the  world  together,  up  to 
this  heart,  in  which  it  in  a  sense  originates.  This  view  of 
things,  I  think,  has  given  me  pleasant  thoughts  of  God. 

I  have  in  times  past  found  it  extremely  difficult  to  gain,  a 
realizing  view  of  the  need  and  fitness  of  Christ's  dying  to  atone 
for  sin.  This  has  appeared  the  gordian  knot  in  divinity.  I 
thought  I  could  more  easily  see  the  propriety  of  his  advocacy  : 
but  it  was  hard  to  see  how  mi/  sins  were  properly  punished, 
or  any  frown  properly  manifested  against  them,  by  the  suflTer- 
ings  of  Christ.  Lately  I  have  been  particularly  solicitous  to 
look  into  this  matter  more  deeply ;  and  have  by  a  divine  bless- 

VOL.  L  4 


26  RESIDENCE    AT 

ing  been  enabled,  I  trust,  to  see  and  feel  the  beauty  and  ex- 
cellency of  this  way  of  pardon,  and  indeed  of  all  the  offices  of 
Christ.  I  think  he  has  truly  appeared  the  chiefest  among  ten 
thousand,  and  altogether  lovely.  I  could,  with  far  more  un- 
derstanding and  clearness  than  ever,  realize  the  force  of  that 
text,  "To  them  therefore  which  believe,  he  is  precious."  Such 
a  succession  of  views  as  the  fQllowing,  has  led  to  a  more  real- 
izing sense  of  the  propriety  and  fitness  of  the  atonement. 

Might  it  not  appear  to  the  universe  that  God  was  an  enemy 
to  the  sin  of  him  who  offered  a  sin  offering  in  Israel  ?  Is  it 
not  easy  to  see  that,  if  the  world  sees  me  standing  by  a  lamb 
whose  life  God  is  taking,  by  mutual  agreement,  in  the  room 
of  mine,  and  on  which  he  lays  his  rod  avowedly  as  a  substitute 
for  me,  the  death  of  the  lamb  expresses  God's  feehngs  towards 
my  sin,  (so  far  as  the  death  of  the  lamb  is  of  weight,)  and  dis- 
countenances transgression,  and  supports  and  sanctions  the 
law  in  its  preceptive  part,  and  as  much,  to  say  the  least,  in  its 
penal  part  ?  If  I  am  to  be  pardoned  by  Christ,  the  Lord  ex- 
pressly and  avowedly  laid  his  wrath  on  him  as  a  substitute  for 
me,  as  much  as  though  I  was  the  only  sinner  to  be  redeemed, 
and  as  much  as  though  I  was  present  on  the  spot  attending 
on  the  sacrifice.  And  previous  (in  the  order  of  nature)  to  my 
pardon  by  the  substitute,  there  is  as  much  a  mutual  agreement 
between  God  and  my  soul,  that  the  anger  which  was  about  to 
fall  on  my  sins,  should  still  be  expressed,  and  should  fall  on 
Christ,  as  though  the  agreement  had  been  made  before  the 
cross.  If  then  any  resentment  against  a  son  could  be  expressed 
by  resentment  against  his  father  who  should  purposely  step 
into  his  place  to  take  the  blow,  God's  anger  towards  my  sin 
was  expressed,  and  the  law  vindicated  and  confirmed  on  the 
cross. 

I  think,  in  reading  the  7th,  8th,  and  9th  chapters  of  He- 
brews, yesterday  and  to-day,  I  have  indeed  seen  the  insuffi- 
ciency of  the  ancient  sacrifices  to  atone  for  sin,  and  the  desira- 
bleness that  so  great  a  sacrifice  should  be  made.  How  could 
the  sacrifice  of  a  pigeon  or  a  dove  express  God's  full  abhorrence 
of  sin,  and  show  the  world  what  an  evil  it  was  to  transgress 


NEW-HARTFORD.  27 

the  law  ?  I  feel  that  in  proportion  to  the  greatness  of  the  sa. 
crifice,  is  the  law  honored.  I  cannot  therefore  bear  the  thought 
of  an  atonement  by  a  less  sacrifice  than  Jesus  Christ.  I  re- 
joice in  him  as  my  atonement,  for  the  honor  which  he  has 
done  to  the  law.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  saved  without  such  an 
atonement.     This,  I  think  is  the  deep  feehng  of  my  soul. 

Examination.  Saturday  mornings  August  26th.  Last 
night,  in  closing  my  prayer  with  "for  Christ's  sake,"  the  pro- 
priety of  Christ's  advocacy  rushed  on  my  mind  with  new  light. 
It  appeared  undesirable  that  any  blessings  should  be  bestowed 
on  me  for  my  own  sake ;  for  this  would  be  patronizing  my 
iniquity,  which  is  the  whole  of  my  natural  character.  It  ap- 
peared desirable  that  they  should  be  bestowed  avowedly  for 
Christ's  sake,  that  it  might  be  publicly  understood  that  they 
were  bestowed  in  consequence  of  what  took  place  on  the  cross, 
and  out  of  respect  to  a  perfect  righteousness,  that  they  might 
be  removed  the  farthest  from  the  appearance  of  being  a  favor 
to  sin.  Hence  appeared  the  propriety  of  his  intercessions  for 
his  people,  and  of  favors  bestowed  in  consequence  of  his  inter- 
cessions. It  was  clearly  opened  to  my  view  how  that  his  ad- 
vocacy was  founded  on  his  atonement  for  sin  and  obedience 
to  the  law. 

My  heart  has  been  lately  desiring  to  look  into  these  things ; 
to  trace  the  spiritual  glory  and  beauty  of  them.  I  never  so 
realizingly  perceived  the  importance  of  growing  in  knowledge, 
and  of  attaining  a  deep  acquaintance  with  the  scriptures.  At 
the  same  time,  I  never  so  fully  saw  the  impropriety,  and  even 
profaneness  of  studying  these  things  for  the  sake  of  mere  spe- 
culation. It  looks  like  handhng  infinitely  important  things 
idly  and  carelessly,  and  akin  to  taking  God's  name  in  vain. 
O  may  I  in  future  avoid  this  great  sin,  of  which  I  have  been 
so  deeply  guilty ! 

Monday,  August  28th.  This  day  I  have  set  apart  for  special 
devotion,  to  seek  God  in  regard  to  a  journey  which  I  expect  to 
commence  to-morrow.  I  expected  to  have  commenced  the 
journey  to  day,  and  hoped  to  have  spent  a  day  in  devotion 
last  week.     But  necessary  avocations  disappointed  me  in  re- 


28  RESIDENCE   AT 

gard  to  the  latter  object,  and  a  disappointment  (which  at  first 
seemed  grievous,  but  now  seems  a  mercy,)  postpones  my  jour- 
ney till  to-morrow,  and  affords  me  opportunity  to  make  prepa- 
i-ation  for  it  by  a  day  of  devotion. 

My  requests  in  regard  to  my  journey  are, — that  God  would 
prosper  me  therein,  succeed  me  in  all  my  business,  preserve 
me  and  my  wife  in  health  and  safety,  and  return  us  in  due 
time  to  our  family  laden  with  rich  experience  of  his  goodness : 
that  he  would  keep  my  house  and  family  and  parish  in  safety 
until  my  return ;  that  I  may  find  my  friends  in  peace  and 
happiness  and  enjoy  them ;  that  in  all  business  I  may  feel  my 
dependance  on  God  alone  for  success  ;  that  I  maybe  preserved 
from  irritated  feelings,  and  from  imprudent  or  passionate  ex- 
pressions, in  consequence  of  any  diversity  of  opinions  or  mis- 
understandings in  business;  that  I  may  be  preserved  from 
vain  and  wandering  thoughts,  from  vain  conversation,  from  a 
mean  conformity  to  the  world  in  things  improper;  and  on  the 
other  hand,  from  sour,  morose  rigidity,  and  in  a  word,  from 
being  drawn  away  from  God  by  intercourse  with  the  world  ; 
that  I  may  be  preserved  from  any  airs  which  would  be  an  ex- 
pression of  pride  and  self-importance,  and  consider  myself  as 
a  minister  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus,  and  as  such,  watched 
by  a  censorious  world  ;  that  1  may  be  preserved  from  the  ne- 
glect of  daily  secret  prayer  in  my  absence ;  that  I  may  enjoy 
my  religious  friends  in  a  religious  way,  more  than  in  former 
journeys,  and  derive  more  instruction,  animation,  and  refresh- 
ment from  them ;  that  1  may  keep  in  mind  that  the  honor  of 
rehgion  depends  greatly  on  the  conduct  and  examples  of 
Christ's  ministers ;  and  that  I  may  keep  up  a  punctual  obser- 
vance of  all  my  former  resolutions  during  my  absence. 

These  shall  be  my  special  petitions  through  the  day.  I  re- 
solve furthermore  to  devote  some  part  of  the  day  to  prayer  for 
friends,  and  that  I  will  look  over  my  memoirs  and  resolutions, 
make  suitable  reflections  on  myself,  enter  into  a  train  of  self- 
examination,  and  renew  my  covenant  with  God ;  that  I  will 
remember  Zion  at  the  throne  of  grace,  adore  God  for  hght 
lately  received,  and  make  those  common  petitions  which  ap- 
pear suitable. 


NEW-HARTFORD.  29 

Evening.  I  have  reviewed  my  memoirs  and  find  myself 
too  neglectful  in  observing  my  resolutions,  especially  some 
which  (I  am  ashamed  to  say)  were  almost  forgotten ;  though 
perhaps  they  were  not  of  the  first  importance.  God  grant  me 
grace  so  to  conduct  myself,  that  these  resolutions  will  not  rise 
up  in  judgment  against  me.  Let  me  ever  remember,  that  '•  it 
is  better  not  to  vow  unto  the  Lord,  than  to  vow  and  not  pay." 

I  have  been  rather  desultory  in  my  petitions  to  day,  and 
have  been  not  so  clear  as  before  in  examination.  I  find  it 
does  not  answer  to  seek  God  negligently,  nor  to  think  of  en- 
joying a  day  of  special  devotion,  unless  the  day  is  wholly  con- 
secrated to  devotion.  It  will  not  answer  to  have  the  attention 
divided  between  religious  and  secular  things  on  such  days,  and 
to  resolve  to  devote  only  as  much  of  the  day  to  religion  as 
shall  seem  convenient.  Hours  must  be  fixed  and  unchange- 
ably consecrated.  However,  I  have  enjoyed  some  happiness, 
and  I  believe  some  fervency  to  day,  and  conclude  with  express- 
ing a  hope  of  the  divine  presence  and  blessing  in  our  journey. 

Sabbath  77iorning,  iSejii.  10th.  Last  night  I  returned  from 
my  journey,  laden  with  rich  experience  of  God's  goodness. 
Never  did  we  find  friends  universally  so  kind  and  tender.  We 
have  accomplished  our  business  more  to  our  mind  than  we 
expected.  No  misunderstanding  arose.  All  was  love  and 
success,  and  our  temporal  interest  is  better  than  we  anticipated. 
Throughout  the  journey  God  appeared,  more  than  in  any  for- 
mer journey,  willing  to  attend  upon  me  whenever  I  was  dis- 
posed for  a  moment  to  turn  aside  from  the  world  to  attend  on 
him.  He  did  not  hide  himself  from  my  search.  But  I  have 
abundant  matter  for  self-accusation.  I  have,  to  a  cruel  degree, 
forsaken  and  forgotten  God.  I  have  abundant  reason  to  ac- 
cuse myself  of  vanity  in  thoughts  and  words,  of  levity,  of 
worldly-mindedness  and  undue  attempts  to  please  the  world 
by  improper  conformities,  of  idolatrous  affections,  &c.  &c. 
Never  was  a  visit  more  agreeable,  so  far  as  the  world  could 
contribute  to  make  it  so.  And  circumstances  have  been  so  or- 
dered seemingly  on  purpose  to  give  us  a  fair  opportunity  to 
determine  whether  the  world  or  God  can  afford  the  most  satis- 


30  RESIDENCE    AT 

faction.  And  here  I  record  it  to  the  praise  of  our  adorable 
Master,  that  the  happiness  which  I  feel  this  morning  in  con- 
templating the  affairs  of  his  kingdom,  is  far  superior  to  any 
which  the  world  has  afforded  during  my  journey.  I  most 
deeply  realize  how  much  religion  is  superior  to  worldly  good, 
how  much  better  God  is  as  a  Master  than  the  world. 

Wednesday^  Oct.  Ath.  In  consequence  of  reading  the 
prayers  of  Miss  Anthony,  and  discovering  her  intense  desire 
to  obtain  more  clear  and  transforming  views  of  God,  I  have 
been  led  to  reflect  on  the  great  difference  between  her  prayers 
and  mine.  I  have  been,  for  the  most  part,  asking  for  particu- 
lar exercises  of  divine  power,  to  produce  effects  in  regard  to 
me,  my  friends,  my  people,  and  Zion  at  large.  And  in  pray- 
er my  mind  has  been  more  on  the  desired  effects,  than  on  that 
fulness  and  glorious  sufficiency  of  wisdom,  power,  goodness, 
majesty,  condescension,  patience,  faithfulness  and  truth,  which 
there  is  in  God.  Thus  I  have  stopped  at  the  threshold,  with- 
out getting  into  the  temple.  Had  I  in  prayer  been  more  in- 
tent to  gaze  into  God,  and  had  I  exercised  myself  more  in 
adoration  and  praise,  I  believe  my  acquaintance  with  God 
would  have  been  vastly  greater,  and  my  mind  more  trans- 
formed into  his  likeness.  Let  it  in  future  be  the  burden  of  my 
prayer,  "Lord,  show  me  thy  glory." 

Sahhath  mornings  Oct.  8th.  Expect  to  preach  both  parts 
of  the  day  from  Exodus  xxxiii.  18.  May  I,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  a  delight  in  the  essential  glory  of  God,  long,  through 
the  day,  to  bring  it  out  to  view,  in  order  to  exalt  God  in  the 
esteem  of  men,  to  show  them  what  ground  of  everlasting  joy 
there  is,  to  prepare  them  to  enjoy  the  good  which  is  wdthin 
their  reach,  and  to  prepare  them,  by  proper  exercises  towards 
God,  to  compose  a  part  of  a  duly  proportioned,  well  adjusted, 
harmonious,  happy  universe. 

Sabbath,  Dec.  17th.  Examination.  I  have  a  solicitous 
fear  that  I  shall  be  left  of  God  to  fall  into  sin.  This  is  my 
most  distressing  apprehension.  I  fear  sin  more  than  any  other 
evil.  But  why  ?  Is  it  for  fear  of  public  shame  ?  Is  it  for  fear 
of  final  punishment  ?   Is  it  for  fear  of  those  dreadful  stings  of 


NEW-HARTFORD,  31 

conscience  which  devils  possess  and  dread  ?  I  think  the  rea- 
son is,  that  sin  is  wrotig,  and  is  what  my  nature,  in  sober 
frames,  abhors.  Good  men  may  have  stings  of  conscience. 
And  if  the  heart  hates  what  the  conscience  disapproves,  it  is 
a  proof  of  rehgion.  Well,  if  I  know  what  it  is  to  hate,  I 
think  I  do  detest  those  sins  which  most  easily  beset  me.  I 
think  I  hate  to  break  sacred  obhgations  and  act  an  unworthy, 
wicked  part.  I  think  I  hate  to  oppose  that  law  and  divine 
benevolence  which  seeks  the  diffusion  of  happiness.  And  if 
any  good  was  offered  me  to  be  enjoyed  in  this  world,  I  think 
I  should  choose  exemption  from  sin  and  the  free  enjoyment  of 
God  before  any  other.  O  that  I  might  keep  my  ordination 
vows  and  adorn  my  profession  by  holy  examples  ! 

Dec.  I8th.  Some  years  ago  in  a  distant  town  I  gave  a 
poor  disciple  a  coat.  Last  night  he  came,  wearing  the  coat, 
and  brought  a  boy  to  live  with  me,  which  I  exceedingly  wanted. 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  coat  he  would  not  have  brought  him. 
I  was  affected,  and  was  reminded  of  the  Scripture,  "  Cast  thy 
bread  upon  the  waters,  for  thou  shalt  find  it  after  many  days." 
May  I  never  forget  that  it  is  profitable  to  lend  to  the  Lord. 

During  the  course  of  twenty -four  hours  the  Lord  has  be- 
stowed upon  me  four  peculiar  and  distinguishing  favors,  and 
three  of  a  less  kind  which  are  still  worthy  of  more  than  com- 
mon notice.  Three  of  the  four  I  had,  I  hope,  trusted  God 
for.  The  other  was  an  unexpected  and  surprising  favor.  Is 
it  not  good  to  serve  and  trust  the  Lord?  Indeed,  he  is  a  good 
Master.  May  I  never  forget  the  lesson  which  these  dispensa- 
tions have  taught  me. 

Sabbath  night,  Dec.  2Ath. .  Have  had  a  pleasant  afternoon, 
though  attended  with  some  wanderings.  Preached  on  the  de- 
sign and  duty  of  prayer  in  consistency  with  the  immutability 
of  God.  In  the  first  prayer,  had  a  train  of  reflections  which 
left  an  impression  on  my  mind  of  the  folly  of  making  calcula- 
tions for  happiness  on  worldly  circumstances,  and  of  indulg- 
ing painful  feelings  on  account  of  situation,  &c.  It  appeared 
that  all  happiness  must  be  derived  from  God,  and  tha(  if  I  am 
bound  down  to  the  necessity  of  being  happy  in  God,  or  being 


32  RESIDENCE  AT 

wretched,  I  ought  to  consider  it  a  great  mercy.  For,  being  in 
such  a  necessity,  I  have  less  temptation  to  forsake  God  for 
other  objects.  And  I  have  learned  that  I  cannot  endure  such 
temptations.  If  this  situation  be  less  calculated  to  wean  me 
from  the  world,  to  afford  me  an  opportunity  to  overcome  my 
pride  and  other  corruptions,  to  prepare  for  a  life  of  usefulness 
and  for  a  world  of  happiness,  here  let  me  live,  and  here  let 
me  die,  and  thank  God  for  having  put  me  in  circumstances  so 
favorable  to  my  eternal  well  being. 

Examination.  Why  is  it  tliat  I  feel  calm  and  happy  to- 
night? I  think  the  following  reasons  conduce  to  this.  (1.) 
A  sense  of  the  kindness  and  mercy  of  the  Lord.  (2.)  More 
hope  of  his  favor.  (3.)  More  expectation  and  hope  that  as 
God  has  not  cast  me  off  forever,  he  will  assist  me  in  over- 
coming my  corruptions  and  enable  me  to  lead  a  holy,  happy 
life.  That  God  should  own  and  bless  and  undertake  to  carry 
me  through  my  warfare,  seems  the  most  desirable  thing  that 
could  happen  to  me.  I  long  to  be  delivered  from  pride,  anger 
and  vanity.  The  mercies  of  God  seem  affecting  and  plea- 
sant. That  he  is  on  the  mercy  seat  to  hear  when  sinners 
pray,  seems  an  inexpressible  favor  and  happiness.  The  pro- 
phetic office  of  Christ,  and  the  knowledge  which  he  commu- 
nicates, appear  precious.  It  seems  desirable  that  he  who  re- 
deemed the  Church  should  have  the  office  of  administering 
salvation  to  it.  And  the  excellencies  of  Christ,  his  tenderness, 
love,  faithfulness,  and  amiableness,  seem  to  add  a  relish  to  the 
salvation  which  he  imparts.  Salvation  tastes  the  sweeter  for 
coming  from  him. 

Sabbath  morning,  March  Ath.  This  forenoon  expect  to  ex- 
plain the  true  character  of  Israel's  God.  I  wish  to  do  it  with 
a  sincere  desire  to  lead  the  people  to  a  true  knowledge  of  them- 
selves and  of  God.  And  I  wish  to  be  affected  myself  with  a 
sense  of  the  beauty  of  the  divine  perfections.  In  the  afternoon 
expect  to  administer  a  pointed  reproof  for  some  growing  evils 
in  the  place.  May  I  speak  with  humility,  with  tenderness, 
and  with  effect. 

Noon.  1  have  attended  to  my  mind,  and  think  I  can  say 


NEW-HARTFORD.  33 

that  the  reproof  which  I  have  prepared  to  administer  this  af- 
ternoon, has  not  proceeded  from  any  other  principle,  (chiefly,) 
than  a  wish  to  do  good.  I  wish  to  administer  it  with  hmiible 
firmness,  and  leave  the  event  with  God.  If  it  gives  offence, 
I  think  I  can  appeal  to  my  conscience  that  I  meant  well. 
God  give  abundant  effect  to  the  reproof,  and  prevent  any  from 
taking  offence. 

Night.  If  ever  I  spoke  with  humble  firmness,  with  a  de- 
sire to  do  good,  without  the  fear  of  man,  and  with  tenderness, 
I  have  done  so  this  afternoon;  though  the  reproof  was  the 
most  pointed  of  any  which  I  ever  administered.  Upon  a  view 
of  the  whole,  I  think  that  I  have  (with  as  much  right  feeling 
as  I  ever  attain  to,)  done  my  duty,  both  in  writing  and  deli- 
vering this  sermon.  And  if  otFence  is  taken  and  disturbances 
are  excited,  I  trust  I  shall  not  be  accountable  for  them.  With 
God  I  leave  the  event;  beseeching  him  to  carry  the  truth  to 
the  consciences  of  all,  and  cause  it  to  produce  permanent  and 
general  good.  Felt  serious  and  happy  in  all  the  public  exer- 
cises of  the  day. 

Sabbath  evening,  March  llth.  I  did  not  greatly  feel  my 
sermons  to-day;  yet  I  had  some  freedom  and  ardor  in  prayer 
especially  in  the  first  prayer  this  afternoon.  Col.  Gardiner's 
zeal,  whose  life  I  am  now  reading,  shows  me  my  own  dead- 
ness  and  barrenness.  O  that  I  might  follow  him,  and  other 
saints,  and  the  Son  of  God,  with  less  unequal  steps.  O  for  a 
fresh  anointing  from  God,  that  would  make  me  more,  much 
more  of  a  living  man. 

I  have  this  day  been  showing  that  Christ  and  his  disciples 
are  one  in  affection.  And  is  it  the  case  with  me  that  I  in  very 
deed  love  the  Redeemer?  I  think  I  am  pleased  to  think  that 
Christ  came  into  the  world  to  support  the  principle  of  supreme 
love  to  God,  tenderness  towards  the  poor,  forgiveness  of  ene- 
mies, mutual  afTection  and  kindness  between  relatives,  and 
general  benevolence  to  mankind  and  all  beings.  He  did  this 
in  taking  measures  that  the  laio  should  not  be  set  aside  while 
sinners  were  saved.  He  sanctified  by  his  death  every  just  and 
excellent  principle;  and  he  appears  excellent  in  this  view.     I 

Vol.  I.  5 


34  RE-^IDENCE  AT 

hope  I  feel  in  some  degree  unworthy  of  any  favor  from  God, 
and  feel  it  to  be  inconsistent  with  inflexible  pmity,  (which 
must  always  be  armed  against  sin,)  to  overlook  my  sins  and 
bestow  on  me  any  favor  but  out  of  respect  to  the  atonement 
and  perfect  righteousness  of  Christ.  Though  my  duties,  so 
far  as  they  are  good,  are  worthy  of  divine  approbation,  yet 
my  character,  viewing  it  at  large,  is  unworthy  of  God's  ac- 
ceptance. My  best  duties  cannot  make  amends  for  my  sins. 
And  therefore  I  consent  to  have  my  own  righteousness  dis- 
claimed as  filthy  rags,  and  to  have  nothing  which  I  have  done 
the  ground  of  any  favor  from  God.  In  this  view  I  think  I  ap- 
prove of  Christ  as"  my  atonement,  righteousness,  and  Advo- 
cate. I  think  I  approve  of  him  as  my  Prophet,  to  instruct  me 
in  the  grand  and  excellent  things  of  God;  as  my  Lawgiver 
and  Protector,  as  the  Disposer  of  my  life,  as  my  Physician 
and  Shepherd,  as  my  Captain  to  fight  my  battles  and  deliver 
me  from  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil,  as  the  Head  of  in- 
fluence, as  my  Strength  and  Comforter,  as  a  hiding  place  from 
the  wind,  &-c.;  as  one  appointed  to  preach  good  tidings  to  the 
meek,  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to  deliver  the  captives, 
and  to  give  joy  to  such  as  mourn  in  Zion ;  as  the  Lamb  of 
God  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world,  and  as  my  all 
in  all.  Such  a  Saviour  I  hope,  I  cordially  love,  and  cast  my- 
self upon  him  as  my  Saviour  from  sin  and  death. 

January  Itli^  1799.  Yesterday  I  was  twenty-nine  years  old ; 
and  this  day  I  set  apart,  (though  my  senses  seem  to  be  locked 
up  by  a  cold,)  to  commemorate  my  birth  day  and  the  com- 
mencement of  a  new  year.  The  Lord  has  once  more  visited 
this  town.  The  sermon  which  I  delivered  in  the  afternoon  of 
November  4th,  I  believe  had  more  effect,  through  God's  bless- 
ing, than  any  sermon  I  ever  delivered  in  my  life,  especially 
on  elderly  people,  who  lay  most  on  my  mind.  Last  night  I 
conversed  with  two  men  for  whom  I  had  felt  very  special  in- 
terest. They  both  appear  to  be  lately  born  again.  My  soul 
was  overjoyed.  It  seemed  almost  enough ;  and  I  was  well 
nigh  ready  to  say,  "Now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart,"  &c. 
Glory  be  to  God  that  he  has  thus  so  soon  and  so  wonderfully 


NEW-HARTFOUD.  35 

visited  this  place  again,  when  hope  was  just  giving  up  the 
ghost.  I  here  leave  it  on  record,  that  he  is  a  prayer-hearing 
and  wonder-working  God.  My  soul  has  lately  been  desirous 
of  seeing  the  kingdom  of  God  come  throughout  the  world,  and 
has  had  hopes  that  such  a  day  would  draw  nigh.  I  think 
the  good  appearances  here  have  afforded  me  more  solid  satis- 
fying comfort  than  I  ever  enjoyed  in  an  awakening  before. 
Among  other  peculiar  circumstances  calculated  to  produce  joy, 
God  has  fastened  on  a  number  of  heads  of  families,  the  least 
probable  and  the  most  important  members  of  the  society. 
Things  are  just  as  I  could  wish,  and  every  thing  looks  won- 
derful. Began  inspector  of  the  schools  under  the  new  law. 
I  have  lately  felt  much  interested  in  forming  a  system  of  edu- 
cation for  the  rising  generation  in  this  town,  which  promises 
with  a  blessing,  to  make  them  a  generation  to  God's  praise. 
I  have  desired,  hoped,  and  prayed  that  God  would  carry  it 
through.  Some  murmur,  but  I  leave  the  affair  with  God.  I 
know  not  that  I  ever  set  about  any  business  with  more  plea- 
sure than  this.  It  promises  much.  Every  thing  has  the  ap- 
pearance of  being  ordered  in  mercy. 

Of  the  revival  alluded  to  in  the  preceding  para- 
graph, the  following  detailed  account  was  given  in 
two  letters  from  Mr.  Griffin,  to  the  Editors  of  the 
Connecticut  Evangelical  Magazine,  and  published 
in  the  numbers  of  that  work  for  December,  1800, 
and  January,  1801. 

LETTER  I. 

Not  having  expected  that  an  account  of  the  late  work  of 
God  among  us  would  be  called  for,  I  have  not  been  careful  to 
charge  my  mind  with  particulars.  Many  impressive  circum- 
stances, which,  had  they  stood  alone,  w^ould  not  have  been 
soon  forgotten,  have  given  place  to  others,  which  in  their  turn 
arrested  and  engrossed  the  attention.  A  succinct  and  general 
account  shall  however  be  attempted. 

The  work  of  divine  grace  among  us,  three  years  ago,  by 


36  RESIDENCE    AT 

which  nearly  fifty  persons  were  hopefully  added  to  the  Lord, 
had  not  wholly  ceased  to  produce  effects  on  the  people  gene- 
rally, when  the  late  scene  of  mercy  and  wonder  conrnienced. 
In  the  interval,  several  were,  in  the  judgment  of  charity, 
"  created  anew  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good  works."  It  is  not 
known,  however,  that  any  thing  took  place  in  the  summer  of 
1798,  which  had  immediate  connection  with  the  present  work, 
unless  it  were  some  trying  conflicts  in  a  number  of  praying 
minds,  which  appeared  to  humble  and  prepare  them  for  the 
blessings  and  the  duties  of  the  ensuing  winter. 

Late  in  October,  1798,  the  people  frequently  hearing  of  the 
display  of  divine  grace  in  West  Simsbury,  Avere  increasingly 
impressed  with  the  information.  Our  conferences  soon  be- 
came more  crowded  and  evinced  deeper  feeling.  Serious  peo- 
ple began  to  break  their  minds  to  each  other ;  and  it  was  dis- 
covered (so  far  were  present  impressions  from  being  the  eflect 
of  mere  syrnj^athy)  that  there  had  been,  for  a  considerable 
time,  in  their  minds,  special  desires  for  the  revival  of  religion ; 
while  each  one,  unapprized  of  his  neighbor's  feelings,  had  sup- 
posed his  exercises  pecuhar  to  himself  It  was  soon  agreed  to 
institute  a  secret  meeting  for  the  express  purpose  of  praying  for 
effusions  of  the  Spirit ;  which  was  the  scene  of  such  wrestHngs 
as  are  not,  it  is  apprehended,  connnonly  experienced.  Seve- 
ral circumstances  conspired  to  increase  our  anxiety.  The  glo- 
rious work  had  already  begun  in  Torringford,  and  the  cloud 
appeared  to  be  going  all  around  us.  It  seemed  as  though  Pro- 
vidence, by  avoiding  us,  designed  to  bring  to  remembrance 
our  past  abuses  of  his  grace.  Besides,  having  been  so  recently 
visited  with  distinguishing  favors,  we  dared  not  allow  our- 
selves to  expect  a  repetition  of  them  so  soon  ;  and  we  began  to 
apprehend  it  was  the  purpose  of  Him  whom  we  had  lately 
grieved  from  among  us,  that  we  should,  for  penalty,  stand 
alone  parched  up  in  sight  of  surrounding  showers.  We  consi- 
dered what  must  be  the  probable  fate  of  the  risen  generation, 
if  we  were  to  see  no  more  of  "  the  days  that  were  past"  for  a 
number  of  years,  and  the  apprehension  that  we  might  not 
caused  sensations  more  easily  felt  than  described. 


NEW-HARTFORD.  37 

This  was  the  state  of  the  people  when,  on  a  Sabbath  in  the 
month  of  November,  it  was  the  sovereign  pleasure  of  a  most 
merciful  God,  very  sensibly  to  manifest  himself  in  the  public 
assembly.  Many  abiding  impressions  were  made  on  minds 
seemingly  the  least  susceptible,  and  on  several  grown  old  in 
unbelief.  From  that  memorable  day  the  flame  which  had 
been  kindling  in  secret,  broke  out.  By  desire  of  the  people, 
religious  conferences  were  set  up  in  different  parts  of  the  town, 
which  continued  to  be  attended  by  deeply  affected  crowds; 
and  in  which  divine  presence  and  power  were  manifested  to  a 
degree  which  v/e  had  never  before  witnessed.  It  is  not  meant 
that  they  were  marked  with  out-cries,  distortions  of  body,  or 
any  symptoms  of  intemperate  zeal ;  but  only  that  the  power 
of  divine  truth  made  deep  impression  on  the  assemblies.  You 
might  often  see  a  congregation  sit  with  deep  solemnity  depict- 
ed in  their  countenances,  without  observing  a  tear  or  sob  dur- 
ing the  service.  This  last  observation  is  not  made  with  design 
to  cast  odium  on  such  natural  expressions  of  a  wounded  spirit. 
But  the  case  was  so  witli  us  that  most  of  those  who  were  ex- 
ercised, were  often  too  deeply  impressed  to  weep.  Addresses 
to  the  passions,  now  no  longer  necessary  since  the  attention 
was  engaged,  were  avoided  ;  and  the  aim  was  to  come  at  the 
conscience.  Little  terror  was  preached,  except  what  is  implied 
in  the  doctrines  of  the  entire  depravity  of  the  carnal  heart — its 
enmity  against  God — its  deceitful  doublings  and  attempts  to 
avoid  the  soul-humbling  terms  of  the  gospel,  the  radical  defects 
of  the  doings  of  the  unregenerate,  and  the  sovereignty  of  God 
in  the  dispensations  of  his  grace.  The  more  clearly  these  and 
other  kindred  doctrines  were  displayed  and  understood,  the 
more  were  convictions  promoted.  By  convictions  is  meant 
those  views  and  feelings  which  are  caused  by  uncovered  truth, 
and  the  influences  of  the  Spirit,  antecedently  to  conversion. 

The  order  and  progress  of  these  convictions  were  pretty 
much  as  follows :  The  subjects  of  them  were  brought  to  feel 
that  they  were  transgressors,  yet  not  that  they  were  totally 
sinful.  As  their  convictions  increased,  they  were  constrained 
to  acknowledge  their  destitution  of  love  to  God ;  but  yet  they 


38  RESIDENCE    AT 

thought  they  had  no  enmity  against  him.  At  length  they 
would  come  to  see  that  enmity  filled  their  hearts.  This  was 
particularly  exempUfied  in  a  certain  house,  in  which  were  two 
persons  exercised  in  mind.  One  appeared  to  have  a  clear 
sense  of  this  eamity,  and  wondeied  how  she  could  have  been 
ignorant  of  it  so  long.  The  other  was  sensible  that  she  pos- 
sessed none  of  that  love  to  God  which  the  law  required,  but 
could  not  believe  that  she  entertained  such  enmity  as  filled  the 
other  with  so  much  remorse  and  anguish.  A  few  days  after- 
wards, seeing  a  friend  to  whom  she  had  expressed  this  senti- 
ment, she  was  anxious  to  let  him  know  her  mistake,  and  in- 
formed him  that  she  had  discovered  that  she  "  hated  God  with 
all  her  heart." 

In  the  first  stages  of  conviction,  it  was  not  easy  for  the  sub- 
jects to  realize  their  desert  of  eternal  death.  But  afterwards, 
even  while  they  gave  decisive  evidence  of  being  still  as  devoid  of 
a  right  temper  as  those  wretches  whose  mouths  will  be  stopped 
by  the  light  of  the  last  day,  their  conviction  of  this  desert  was, 
in  many  instances,  very  clear.  Nevertheless,  even  to  the  last, 
their  hearts  would  recoil  at  the  thought  of  being  in  God's 
hands,  and  would  rise  against  him  for  having  reserved  it  to 
himself  to  decide  whether  to  sanctify  and  pardon  them  or  not. 
Though  the  display  of  this  doctrine  had  the  most  powerful  ten- 
dency to  strip  them  of  all  hopes  from  themselves,  and  to  bring 
them  to  the  feet  of  sovereign  grace ;  yet  as  it  thus  sapped 
the  foundation  on  which  they  rested,  their  feeUngs  were  ex- 
cited against  it.  There  was  a  man  who,  having  been  well 
indoctrinated,  had  for  many  years  advocated  this  truth  ;  who 
notwithstanding,  when  he  came  to  be  concerned  about  his  sal- 
vation and  to  apply  this  truth  to  his  own  case,  was  much  dis- 
pleased with  it.  He  was  at  times  quite  agitated  by  a  warfare 
between  his  understanding  and  heart ;  the  former  assenting  to 
the  truth,  the  latter  resisting  it.  He  said  it  depended  on  God 
and  not  on  himself,  whether  he  ever  should  comply  with  the 
gospel ;  and  for  God  to  withhold  his  influences,  and  then  pu- 
nish him  for  not  possessing  the  temper  which  these  influences 
alone  could  produce,  appeared  to  him  hard.    Before  conviction 


NEW-HARTPORD.  39 

had  become  deep  and  powerful,  many  attempted  to  exculpate 
themselves  with  this  plea  of  inability,  and  like  their  ancestor, 
to  cast  the  blame  upon  God,  by  pleading,  "  The  nature  which 
he  gave  me,  beguiled  me."  This  was  the  enemy's  strong 
hold.  All  who  were  a  little  more  thoughtful  than  common, 
but  not  thoroughly  convicted,  would,  upon  the  first  attack,  flee 
to  this  refuge :  "  They  would  be  glad  to  repent,  but  could  not, 
their  nature  and  heart  were  so  bad  ;"  as  though  their  nature 
and  heart  were  not  they  themselves.  But  the  progress  of  con- 
viction in  general  soon  removed  this  "  refuge  of  lies,"  and  fill- 
ed them  with  a  sense  of  utter  inexcusableness ;  and  in  every 
case,  as  soon  as  their  enmity  was  slain,  this  plea  wholly  va- 
nished, and  their  language  immediately  became,  "  I  wonder 
I  ever  should  ask  the  question,  How  can  I  repent  7  My  only 
wonder  now  is  that  I  could  hold  out  so  lo?ig" 

It  was  not  uncommon  for  the  hearts  of  the  convicted,  as 
they  rose  against  God,  to  rise  also  against  his  ministers.  Se- 
veral who  had  not  betrayed  their  feelings  in  the  season  of 
them,  afterwards  confessed  that  such  resentments  had  arisen. 
In  some  instances,  the  emotions  were  plainly  discoverable,  and 
in  one,  particularly,  the  subject  was  so  incensed  as  to  break 
out  in  bitter  expressions,  but  a  few  hours  before  being  relieved 
from  the  anguish  of  a  deeply  troubled  spirit.  Such  things 
seemed  to  be  satisfying  evidence  that  mere  conviction  no  more 
meliorates  the  heart  in  this,  than  in  the  other  world;  but 
serves  rather  to  draw  out  its  corruptions  into  still  stronger  ex- 
ercise. It  may  be  suitable  to  add,  that  these  sallies  of  resent- 
ment were  occasioned  by  the  distinguishing  doctrines  of  the 
gospel,  closely  and  affectionately  applied  to  the  conscience. 

As  soon  as  the  heart  of  stone  was  removed  and  a  heart  of 
flesh  given,  the  subjects  of  this  happy  change  exhibited  senti- 
ments and  feelings  widely  different  fi'om  those  above  described. 
They  were  now  wrapt  up  in  admiration  of  the  laws  and  ab- 
solute government  of  God,  which  had  before  been  the  object 
of  so  much  cavil  and  disgust.  Notwithstanding  the  extreme 
deUcacy  and  danger  which  attend  the  detail  of  individual 
cases,  it  may  on  the  whole,  it  is  hoped,  be  more  useful  than 


40  RESIDENCE  AT 

injurious  to  confirm  and  illustrate  the  observation  just  now  ad- 
vanced by  some  particular  relations. 

There  was  a  man,  who,  for  a  number  of  years,  had  enter- 
tained hope  of  his  personal  interest  in  the  covenant;  and  be- 
ing of  inoffensive  behavior,  had  given  people  no  other  special 
ground  to  distrust  him  than  his  opposition  to  divine  sovereign- 
ty, and  disgust  (which  he  now  believes  arose  from  a  self- 
righteous  temper,)  at  the  doctrine  that  God  has  no  regard  for 
the  doings  of  the  unregenerate.  He  thought  the  impenitent 
were  thus  too  much  discouraged  from  making  their  own  ex- 
ertions. Emboldened  by  a  favorable  opinion  of  his  state,  he 
offered  himself  some  time  ago  for  communion  with  the  church. 
And  because  he  could  not  assent  to  their  confession  of  faith, 
hx3  petitioned  to  have  several  articles  struck  out,  particularly 
the  one  which  asserts  the  doctrine  of  election.  The  church 
did  not  consent,  and  he'withdrew.  But  so  exquisitely  was  his 
sensibiUt}^  touched,  that  he  had  it  in  serious  consideration  to 
dispose  of  his  property,  and  remove  to  some  place  "where  he 
might  enjoy  gospel  ordinances."  It  pleased  God  the  last  win- 
ter, to  convince  him  that  his  "  feet  stood  on  slippery  places ;" 
and  after  a  scene  of  distressing  conviction,  his  mind  was  com- 
posed in  view  of  those  very  truths  which  had  been  the  objects 
of  his  opposition.  Since  then,  he  has  publicly  manifested  his 
belief  in  the  articles  adopted  by  the  church,  and  has  been  re- 
ceived by  tliem,  to  the  "furtherance"  of  their  "joy  of  faith" 
and  "  comfort  of  love." 

Another  might  be  mentioned  who  was  equally  opposed  to 
the  essential  truths  of  revelation.  Having  the  care  of  a  school 
in  town,  last  winter,  he  was  required  by  the  inspectors  to  sub- 
scribe to  the  belief,  "  that  the  general  system  of  doctrines 
taught  in  the  assembly's  catechism,  is  agreeable  to  the  word  of 
God."  He  could  not  comply,  on  the  ground  that  the  cate- 
chism asserts,  "God  hath  foreordained  whatsoever  comes  to 
pass."  The  inspectors,  loth  to  lose  him,  endeavored  to  con- 
vince him.  But  this  clause  appeared  to  him  so  exceptionable 
that  he  persisted  in  declining,  and  would  have  left  his  school 
rather  than  comply,  had  he  not  at  last  discovered  that  the 


NEW-HARTFORD.  41 

phrase  "general  system"  would  leave  him  room  after  sub- 
scribing, to  withhold  his  assent  to  the  offensive  article.  Soon 
after  this,  his  conscience  was  seized  by  the  convincing  power 
of  truth,  a  great  revolution  was  produced  in  his  views  and 
feelings,  and  he  has  since  professed  to  be  filled  with  admira- 
tion of  a  government  planned  by  eternal  wisdom,  and  admi- 
nistered by  unerring  rectitude. 

It  might  perhaps  not  be  unsuitable  to  mention  the  case  of  a 
man  upwards  of  70  years  of  age;  who,  belonging  to  the  low- 
est class  of  society,  and  living  in  a  very  retired  place,  was  ex- 
tremely illiterate,  and  had  httle  intercourse  with  the  world, 
yet  was  possessed  of  a  strong  mind  and  malignant  passions. 
Having  conceived  a  strong  disgust  at  some  of  the  peculiar  doc- 
trines of  the  gospel,  he  had  given  his  word  that  he  would  hear 
them  no  more.  Because  his  wife  had  united  with  the  church, 
and  attended  public  worship,  he  rendered  her  life  very  uncom- 
fortable. On  which  subject  I  went  to  converse  with  him  last 
summer,  and  am  certain  I  never  saw  a  case  in  which  so  much 
deliberate  rancor  and  deadly  hatred  were  expressed  against 
every  thing  sacred,  against  the  essential  truths  of  revelation, 
and  against  the  ministers  and  church  of  Christ  in  general. 
In  the  expression  both  of  his  countenance  and  lips  he  approxi- 
mated the  nearest  to  my  ideas  of  "  the  spirits  in  prison"  of  any 
person  I  ever  beheld.  His  enmity  was  not  awakened  to  sud- 
den rage,  (for  my  treatment  aimed  at  being  conciliatory,)  but 
seemed  deep-rooted  and  implacable.  His  resolution  of  keep- 
ing from  public  worship  he  pertinaciously  adhered  to:  nor  had 
he  any  connection  with  the  conferences  during  the  first  period 
of  the  awakening.  Yet,  disconnected  as  he  was  from  all  re- 
ligious society  and  the  means  of  grace,  it  pleased  God  late  in 
the  winter,  to  take  strong  hold  of  his  mind.  He  continued 
for  a  while  trembling  in  retirement ;  but  when  he  could  con- 
tain no  longer,  he  came  out  to  find  the  conferences,  and  to 
seek  some  experienced  christians  to  whom  he  might  lay  open 
his  distress.  Being  called  out  of  town  about  this  time,  I  did 
not  see  him  in  this  condition ;  and  when  I  saw  him  next,  he 
was,  in  appearance,  "clothed  and  in  his  right  mind."     Inqui- 

VoJ.  I.  6 


42  RESIDENCE  AT 

ry  being  made  respecting  his  apprehensions  of  those  doctrines 
which  had  been  so  offensive,  he  repUed,  "  they  are  the  foun- 
dation of  the  world."  Every  air  seemed  changed.  Softness 
and  gentleness  had  taken  the  place  of  native  ferocity,  and  the 
man  appeared  tamed.  I  could  not  help  reflecting  that  a  reli- 
gion which  will  make  such  changes  in  the  tempers  and  man- 
ners of  men  is  a  religion  worth  possessing.  An  awakening 
which  produces  such  effects  will  not  be  censured  by  the  friends 
of  human  happiness. 

It  would  not  consist  with  the  designed  brevity  of  this  nar- 
rative, nor  yet  perhaps  with  propriety,  to  detail  all  the  inte- 
resting circumstances  in  the  experiences  of  more  than  a  hun- 
dred persons,  who  appear  to  have  been  the  subjects  of  this 
work.     It  may,  however,  be  not  unuseful  to  go  so  far  into  par- 
ticulars as  to  exhibit  some  of  the  distinguishing  fruits  of  it. 
The  subjects  of  it  have  generally  expressed  a  choice  that  God 
should  pursue  the  "determinate  counsel"  of  his  own  will,  and 
without  consulting  them,  decide  respecting  their  salvation.  To 
the  question,  whether  they  expected  to  alter  the  divine  mind 
by  prayer  ?  it  has  been  answered  "  I  sometimes  think,  if  this 
were  possible,  I  should  not  dare  to  pray."     When  asked  what 
was  the  first  thing  which  composed  their  anxious  minds  ?  they 
have  sometimes  answered,  "the  thought  that  I  was  in  the 
hands  of  God.     It  seems  to  me  that  whatever  becomes  of  me, 
whether  I  live  or  die,  I  cannot  bear  to  be  out  of  his  hands." 
Many  have  expressed  a  wiUingness  to  put  their  names  to  a 
blank,  and  leave  it  with  God  to  fill  it  up ;  and  that,  because 
his  having  the  government  would  secure  the  termination  of 
all  things  in  his  own  glory. 

They  do  not  found  their  hopes  on  the  suggestion  of  scrip- 
ture passages  to  their  minds,  on  dreams,  or  seeing  sights,  or 
hearing  voices,  or  on  bhnd  unaccountable  impulses;  but  on 
the  persuasion  that  they  have  discovered  in  themselves  the  ex- 
ercises of  love  to  God  and  man,  originating  not  in  selfishness. 
When  asked  what  they  had  discovered  in  God  to  engage  their 
affections?  they  have  sometimes  answered,  "  I  think  I  love 
him  because  he  hates  sin,  because  he  hates  my  sins."     They 


NEW-HARTFORD.  43 

frequently  have  declared  that  God  appeared  altogether  more 
glorious  to  them  for  being  sin-hating  and  sin-avenging ;  that 
they  were  willing  he  should  abide  by  his  determination  not  to 
have  mercy  on  them  or  their  friends,  if  they  would  not  repent 
and  believe  the  gospel.  One  observed  in  confidence  to  a  friend, 
and  without  the  appearance  of  ostentation,  that  she  had  been 
so  taken  up  all  day  in  rejoicing  in  God's  perfections  and  the 
certain  accomplishment  of  his  glory,  that  she  had  scarcely 
thought  of  what  would  be  her  own  destiny ;  that  she  must 
beheve  she  reckoned  more  of  his  glory  and  the  public  good 
than  of  her  own  happiness.  Some  declared  that  if  they  could 
have  their  choice,  either  to  live  a  life  of  religion  and  poverty, 
or  revel  in  the  pleasures  of  the  world,  unmolested  by  conscience 
or  fear,  and  at  last  be  converted  on  a  dying  bed,  and  be  as 
happy  hereafter  as  if  they  had  made  the  other  choice,  they 
should  prefer  the  former;  and  that,  for  the  glory  of  God,  and 
not  merely  for  the  happiness  which  the  prospects  of  future 
glory  would  daily  afford;  for  they  believed  their  choice  would 
be  the  same,  though  in  certain  expectation  that  fears  and  con- 
flicts would  render  a  religious  life  less  happy  than  a  life  of 
sensuality.  Their  predominant  desire  still  appears  to  be  that 
God  may  be  glorified,  and  that  they  may  render  him  volun- 
tary glory  in  a  life  of  obedience,  and  may  enjoy  him  in  a  life 
of  communion  with  him.  A  prospect  of  the  full  attainment 
of  these  ends  is  what  appears  to  render  the  heavenly  state  the 
object  of  their  eager  desire.  Their  admiration  of  Jesus  Christ 
seems  most  excited  by  his  zeal  to  support  his  Father's  law — a 
law,  the  glories  of  which  they  appear  distinctly  though  im- 
perfectly to  apprehend.  The  Bible  is  to  them  a  new  book. 
Prayer  seems  their  delight.  Their  hearts  are  peculiarly  united 
to  the  people  of  God.  But  the  most  observable  part  of  their 
character  is  a  lovely  appearance  of  meekness  and  humility. 
Little  of  that  presumptuous  confidence,  too  much  of  which 
has  sometimes  appeared  in  young  professors,  is  observable  in 
them.  Accordingly  they  have  not  that  uninterrupted  eleva- 
tion of  spirits  which  in  the  inexperienced  is  generally  bottomed 
on  comparative  ignorance  of  remaining  corruption,  and  over- 


44  RESIDENCE    AT 

rating  their  attainments.  Accustomed  to  discriminate  between 
true  and  false  affections,  tliey  appear  not  to  set  to  their  account 
so  much  of  the  "wood,  hay  and  stubble,"  as  perhaps  some 
have  done.  By  reason  of  the  views  they  have  had  of  the  de- 
ceitfulness  of  their  hearts,  and  the  comparison  and  examina- 
tion they  have  made  to  discover  how  near  in  appearance  false 
religion  lies  to  the  true,  they  have  great  diffidence  and  distrust 
of  themselves.  A  sense  of  their  ill  desert  abides  and  increases 
upon  them  after  apparent  renovation  ;  a  considerable  time  pos- 
terior to  which,  some  have  been  heard  to  say,  "  I  never  had 
an  idea  what  a  heart  I  had  till  this  week."  Each  one  seems 
to  apprehend  his  own  depravity  to  be  the  greatest.  They  ap- 
pear not  to  be  calculating  to  bring  God  into  debt  by  their  new 
obedience.  A  person  not  greatly  indoctrinated,  but  lovely  in 
the  charms  of  child-like  simpHcity,  was  heard  to  say,  "  I  will 
tell  you,  sir,  what  appears  to  me  would  be  exactly  right.  It 
would  be  exactly  right  for  me  to  live  thirty  or  forty  years  in  the 
world  without  ever  sinning  again,  and  be  serving  God  all  the 
time ;  and  then  it  would  be  just  right  for  me  to  be  sent  to  hell 
for  what  I  have  already  done."  The  hopeful  subjects  of  the 
work  as  yet  exhibit  "  fruits  meet  for  repentance."  Some  we 
have  had  opportunity  to  see  under  the  pressure  of  heavy  afflic- 
tions ;  who  have  seemed  calmly  to  acquiesce  in  the  dispensa- 
tions of  providence. 

In  giving  the  foregoing  description,  special  care  has  been 
taken  not  to  paint  an  ideal  image  of  what  they  ought  to  be, 
but  scrupulously  to  delineate  the  views  and  exercises  which 
they  have  really  expressed.  In  these  views  and  exercises  they 
have,  however,  circumstantially  differed ;  some  having  been 
first  and  chiefly  affected  with  the  beauty  of  the  divine  law ; 
others,  with  the  glories  and  all-sufficiency  of  Jesus  Christ; 
others,  with  the  divine  perfections  generally ;  others,  and  per- 
haps the  greatest  number,  with  the  fitness  of  divine  sovereign- 
ty. Some  have  been  for  a  great  while,  others,  a  much  shorter 
time,  under  trouble  of  mind.  One  man  in  advanced  life,  who 
had  lately  been  only  a  little  more  thoughtful  than  common, 
in  this  state  retired  to  rest,  and  was  suddenly  seized  with  pow- 


NEW-HARTFORD.  45 

erful  and  very  distinct  convictions  of  truth,  and  in  the  judg- 
ment of  charity,  ahnost  immediately  passed  to  uncommonly 
clear  exercises  of  love  to  God  and  his  kingdom. 

With  the  gift  of  grace,  some  have  received  an  uncommon 
gift  of  prayer.  A  man  who  formerly  had  not  been  disposed  to 
give  much  credit  to  religion,  falling  into  a  conference  of  young 
people  one  evening,  and  heaiing  a  prayer  made  by  an  illite- 
rate youth,  was  much  surprised  and  even  convinced  ;  and  af- 
tervvards  observed,  that  lie  was  satislied  such  a  prayer  could 
not,  a  few  months  before,  have  possibly  dropt  from  those  lips. 

It  is  believed  that  the  outlines  of  this  narrative,  equally  de- 
scribe the  features  and  fruits  of  this  extensive,  (and  may  we 
not  add,  genuine  and  remarkably  pure)  work,  in  at  least  fifty 
or  sixty  adjacent  congregations.  It  is  proposed  shortly  to  give 
you  a  more  entire  picture  of  it,  as  it  relates  to  this  place ;  till 
then,  1  am,  &c, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

New-Hartford,  Aug.  1800. 

LETTER  II. 

In  pursuance  of  the  design  suggested  in  the  close  of  my  last, 
the  narrative,  which  was  then  left  unfinished,  will  now  be  re- 
sumed. 

The  late  attention  of  our  state  legislature  to  schools,  has 
led  the  way  to  important  benefits  to  children,  as  well  in  this 
as  in  many  other  towns.  In  consequence  of  the  new  arrange- 
ments, school-masters  of  serious  minds  have  been  employed, 
who  have  entered  in  earnest  upon  instructing  the  children  in 
the  principles  of  religion,  and  praying  with  them.  The  effect 
has  been,  that  many  schools  have  been  awakened,  and  as  we 
have  good  reason  to  conclude,  have  received  lasting  benefits. 
Three  of  the  schools  in  this  town  were  last  winter  under  the 
care  of  men  professedly  pious,  and  very  faithful  in  imparting 
these  instructions.  Oilt  of  these  nearly  twenty  children,  in 
the  course  of  the  winter,  it  is  hoped,  were  introduced  into 
"  marvellous  light."  The  knowledge  possessed  by  such  as  we 
hope  have  been  savingly  enlightened  by  the  Divine  Spirit,  is 
worthy  of  particular  observation.    Important  ideas  and  distinc- 


46  RESIDENCE    AT 

tions,  which  it  has  been  attempted  in  vain  to  give  to  others  of 
of  their  age,  appear  familiar  to  them.  One  lad  in  particular, 
in  a  certain  interview  which  was  had  with  him,  discriminated 
between  true  and  false  affections,  and  stated  the  grounds  of 
his  hopes  and  fears  in  a  manner  very  surprising  and  affecting. 
It  was  the  more  so,  because  the  evening  before  an  attempt 
had  been  made  with  children  of  the  same  age  and  neighbor- 
hood, and  of  equal  abilities  and  opportunity  ;  and  it  had  seem- 
ed like  "  ploughing  on  a  rock ;"  insomuch  that  the  hope  was 
almost  relinquished  Of  ever  being  able  to  introduce  discriminat- 
ing ideas  into  minds  so  young.  It  would  be  ungrateful  not 
to  acknowledge  that  in  a  remarkable  manner  it  hath  pleased 
the  Most  High,  "  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucldings  to 
perfect  praise." 

It  is  hoped  that  about  fifty  heads  of  families  have  been  the 
subjects  of  this  work ;  a  considerable  part  of  whom  rank 
among  the  most  respectable  and  influential  characters  in  the 
town.  This,  however,  gives  the  young  no  just  encourage- 
ment to  hazard  their  salvation  on  the  chance  of  being  called 
in  at  "the  eleventh  hour."  Had  they  seen  the  anguish  of 
some  of  these  for  neglecting  so  long  the  great  business  of  life, 
it  might  discourage  such  neglect  in  them.  Penetrated  with 
remorse  for  the  waste  of  life,  and  for  the  lax  examples  by 
which  they  supposed  they  had  corrupted  others,  they  seemed 
to  conclude  it  was  probably  too  late  for  them  to  find  mercy  ; 
yet  were  anxious  to  disburden  their  conscience  of  one  torment, 
by  solemnly  warning  the  youth  not  to  follow  their  steps.  "  We 
are  soon  going,"  said  they,  "  to  receive  the  reward  of  wasted 
life ;  and  we  warn  you  to  proceed  no  further  in  search  of  a 
more  convenient  time  to  prepare  for  death.  We  have  been 
over  the  ground  between  you  and  us,  and  this  '  more  conve- 
nient season'  does  not  lie  before  you.  O  that  we  could  be 
placed  back  to  your  age,  for  then  we  might  have  hope.  If 
you  did  but  know  and  feel  as  we  do  the  value  of  youth,  you 
would  surely  better  improve  it."  In  language  of  this  import 
have  they  been  frequently  heard  to  vent  themselves,  while  de- 
spair and  anguish  seemed  settled  on  every  feature  ;  all  which, 


NEW-HARTFORD.  47 

united,  produced  sensations  in  the  affected  hearers  not  easily 
described. 

The  power  of  the  Ahnighty  Spirit  has  prostrated  the  stout- 
ness of  a  considerable  number,  who  were  the  last  that  human 
expectation  would  have  fixed  on  to  be  the  subjects  of  such  a 
change.  One  man  who  lives  at  a  distance  from  the  sanctu- 
ary, and  who  perhaps  seldom,  if  ever,  visited  it  in  his  life  j 
and  who,  as  might  be  expected,  was  extremely  ignorant  and 
stupid ;  has  been  visited  in  his  own  house,  and  in  the  view  of 
charity,  brought  into  the  kingdom.  His  heart  seems  now  foi" 
the  first  time  to  be  towards  the  sanctuary,  though  ill  health  pre- 
vents him  from  enjoying  the  blessings  and  privileges  of  it. 
Another  old  man  in  the  same  neighborhood,  who  had  not 
been  into  our  house  of  worship,  and  probably  not  into  any 
other,  for  more  than  twenty  years,  has  been  arrested,  in  his 
retirement,  by  the  Divine  Spirit,  and  still  remains  "  like  the 
troubled  sea  when  it  cannot  rest." 

It  has  been  a  remarkable  season  for  the  destruction  of  false 
hopes.  Nearly  twenty  of  those  who  have  lately  appeared  to 
build  "  on  the  rock,"  have  been  plucked  off  from  the  sandy 
foundation.  As  a  caution  to  others,  it  may  perhaps  not  be  im- 
proper briefly  to  state  the  previous  situation  of  some  of  these. 
One  had  supposed  that  she  loved  the  God  of  Providence  be- 
cause she  had  some  sense  of  his  daily  kindness  to  her  and  her 
family.  She  was  the  one  mentioned  in  my  former  letter,  who 
was  brought  to  see  and  acknowledge  that  she  hated  the  real 
character  of  God  with  all  her  heart.  Another,  having  been 
brought  up  in  gay  life,  was  also  very  ignorant  of  the  essential 
nature  of  true  religion,  insensible  of  the  deceitfulness  of  her 
heart,  and  in  full  confidence  of  her  good  estate.  Another,  ac- 
customed to  contemplate  moral  truth,  in  the  light  of  a  clear 
and  penetrating  intellect,  had.  mistaken  the  assent  of  the  un- 
derstanding for  affections  of  the  heart.  Another  had  been  the 
subject  of  some  exercises  in  early  hfe,  which  had  induced  the 
hope  that  he  was  Avithin  the  embraces  of  the  gracious  cove- 
nant. But  he  had  become  a  worldling,  and  lived  in  the  omis 
sion  of  family  prayer.     Still,  while  under  his  late  conflicts,  he 


48  RESIDENCE    AT 

would  reach  back,  and  fasten  anew  on  his  former  hope, 
(which  he  had  made  little  account  of  in  the  days  of  his  care- 
lessness,) until  the  power  of  the  Divine  Spirit  broke  his  hold. 
Another  had  formerly  rested  her  hope  on  some  suggestion  to 
her  mind,  (somewhat  hke  a  voice,)  assuring  her  in  time  of 
sickness  and  anxiety,  that  her  sins  were  forgiven.  Another 
had  been  introduced  into  a  hoping  state  in  a  season  of  awa- 
kening several  years  ago;  since  which,  nothing  special  had 
occurred  as  a  ground  of  self  distrust,  except  that  she  had 
sometimes,  for  a  considerable  season,  neglected  prayer  and 
spiritual  contemplations  for  worldly  objects.  Another  was  first 
put  upon  suspecting  and  searching  himself  by  finding  in  his 
heart  an  undue  appetite  for  the  gaities  and  vanities  of  youth. 
He  had  just  returned  from  a  party  of  pleasure  when  his  con- 
flict began.  Another  was  the  man  mentioned  in  my  former 
letter,  as  having  been  so  opposed  to  the  sovereignty  of  God,  in 
the  dispensation  of  his  grace.  The  rest,  for  aught  that  ap- 
peared, were  as  hopeful  candidates  for  heaven  as  many  pro- 
fessors. From  observing  the  effects  which  the  light  of  God's 
presence  had  upon  false  hopes,  a  trembling  reflection  arose, 
"  How  many  such  hopes  will  probably  be  chased  away  by  the 
opening  light  of  eternity  !"  The  Lord  seemed  come  to  "  search 
Jerusalem  with  candles,"  and  to  find  out  those  who  were  "set- 
tled on  their  lees."  The  church  felt  the  shock.  No  less  than 
three  conversed  with  me  in  one  week  on  the  expediency  of 
witiidrawing  from  the  sacrament.  That  same  presence  which 
at  Sinai  made  all  the  church  and  even  Moses,  "  exceedingly 
fear  and  quake,"  rendered  it  now  a  time  of  trembling  with 
professors  in  general.  Nevertheless  it  was,  in  respect  to  most 
of  them,  a  season  of  great  quickening  and  a  remarkable  day 
of  prayer.  Two  persons  have  been  for  several  months  under 
deep  dejection,  which  at  times  bordered  on  despair ;  one  being 
extremely  weakened  by  ill  health;  the  other  having  experi- 
enced such  dreadful  heart-risings  against  God,  as  to  be  terrifi- 
ed into  the  apprehension  that  her  condemnation  is  sealed. 
Some,  after  having  had,  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  a  saving 
change  passed  upon  their  hearts,  have  had  seasons  of  thick 


NEW-HARTFORD.  49 

darkness.  One  person,  after  the  dawn  of  a  joyful  morning, 
was  for  two  or  three  months  overshadowed  with  a  cloud,  and 
by  turns  appeared  in  ahuost  total  despair,  and  notwithstanding 
he  had  such  apprehensions  of  guilt  and  danger  that  sleepless 
and  "wearisome  nights"  were  "appointed"  to  him,  yet  he 
verily  thought,  (to  use  his  own  frequent  expression,)  that  he 
was  as  stupid  as  the  beasts,  and  that  his  stupidity  was  daily 
increasing ;  though  to  others  it  was  evident  that  what  he  con- 
sidered the  increase  of  his  stupidity,  Avas  only  the  increase  of 
his  anxiety  about  it.  In  other  instances,  the  enemy  has  at- 
tempted to  divert  people  from  their  anxiety  with  premature 
hopes. 

We  have  met  with  little  or  no  open  opposition  to  the  work ; 
the  corruptions  of  those  who  were  not  drawn  into  it  having 
been  lield  in  awe  by  a  present  God.  It  is  apprehended  there 
has  scarcely  been  a  person  in  town  of  sufficient  age  for  serious 
thought  who  has  not  felt  an  unusual  solemnity  on  his  mind. 
A  general  reformation  of  morals  and  sobriety  of  conduct  are 
observable  through  the  town.  Family  prayer  has  been  re- 
markably revived.  On  the  day  of  the  general  election  of  state 
officers,  (a  day  usually  devoted  to  festivity,)  the  young  peo- 
ple of  their  own  accord  assembled  in  the  sanctuary ;  where, 
by  their  particular  desire,  a  sermon  was  delivered  to  them :  and 
they  went  home  generally  agreed  that  one  day  spent  in  the 
courts  of  the  Lord  was  better  than  a  thousand  wasted  in  va- 
nity. Upon  the  whole,  it  is  a  given  point  among  the  candid 
that  much  good  and  no  hurt  has  been  produced  by  this  reli- 
gious revival,  and  that  it  would  be  a  matter  of  exceeding  joy 
and  gratitude,  if  such  a  revival  should  be  extended  through 
the  world. 

In  this  work  the  Divine  Spirit  seems  to  have  borne  strong 
testimony  to  the  truth  of  those  doctrines  which  are  generally 
embraced  by  our  churches,  and  which  are  often  distinguished 
by  the  appellation  of  Calvinism.  These  doctrines  appear  to 
have  been  "  the  sword  of  the  spirit,"  by  which  sinners  have 
been  "pricked  in  their  hearts,"  and  to  have  been  "like  as  a  fire 
and  like  a  hammer  that  breaketh  the  rock  in  pieces."     It  is 

Vol.  I.  7 


50  RESIDENCE    AT 

under  the  weekly  display  of  these  that  the  work  has  been  cm- 
ried  on  in  all  our  towns.  These  have  been  the  truths  which 
the  awakened  have  deeply  felt,  and  these  the  prominent  ob- 
jects in  view  of  which  the  young  converts  have  been  trans- 
ported. The  scenes  which  have  been  opened  before  us  have 
brought  into  view  what  to  many  is  convincing  evidence  that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  exjyerimental  religion;  and  that  mere 
outward  morahty  is  not  the  qualification  which  fits  the  soul 
for  the  enjoyment  of  God.  People  who  before  were  of  inof- 
fensive conduct  and  of  engaging  social  affections,  have  been 
brought  to  see  that  their  hearts  were  fiiU  of  enmity  to  God ; 
and  now  give  charitable  evidence  of  possessing  tempers,  to 
which  before  they  were  utter  strangers.  It  may  be  added, 
that  some  of  the  subjects  of  the  work  now  acknowledge  that 
they  lived  many  years  in  dependance  on  a  moral  life,  (and 
one  of  them,  driven  from  this  ground,  tried  to  rest  on  the 
scheme  of  Universalism;)  but  they  are  now  brought  to  see 
that  they  were  "  leaning  on  a  broken  reed,"  and  no  longer 
rest  on  supposed  innocence  or  good  works,  but  on  Him  who 
came  to  save  the  chief  of  sinners.  I  am,  &c. 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1800  Mrs.  Griffin's 
health  became  so  much  impaired  that  her  physicians 
advised  that  she  should  be  removed  to  a  milder  cli- 
mate. In  consequence  of  this,  Mr.  G.  presented 
to  his  congregation  the  alternative  of  either  with- 
drawing from  his  labors  and  relinquishing  his  sala- 
ry till  there  should  be  time  to  make  the  necessary 
experiment  on  Mrs.  G's  health,  or  of  immediately 
resigning  his  pastoral  charge.  The  congregation 
chose  the  former  side  of  the  alternative ;  and  ac- 
cordingly, in  the  early  part  of  October,  he  left 
New-Hartford  with  Mrs.  G.  and  travelled  as  far 
south  as  New-Jersey.     Having  received  an  invita- 


NEW-HARTFORD.  51 

tion  from  his  friend,  the  Rev.  Mr.  (now  Doctor) 
HiLLYER,  who  at  that  time  resided  in  Morris  county, 
to  come  and  pass  as  much  time  with  him  as  he 
might  find  convenient,  he  availed  himself  of  the 
obhging  invitation  and  remained  with  Mr.  H.  seve- 
ral weeks.  During  this  period  he  preached  fre- 
quently in  the  neighboring  congregations,  and  was 
every  where  listened  to  with  the  deepest  interest. 
About  this  time  the  church  in  Orange  became  va- 
cant by  the  removal  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Chapman,  and 
Mr.  Griffin  was  engaged  to  occupy  the  pulpit  for 
the  winter.  His  preaching  here  was  attended  by 
manifest  tokens  of  the  divine  favor,  and  about  fifty 
were  added  to  the  church  as  the  fruit  of  his  labors. 
The  following  letter  to  the  Rev.  Jeremiah  Hal- 
lock,  dated  "New-Jersey,  Newark,  (Orangedale) 
March  3,  1801,"  describes  the  interesting  state  of 
things  which  existed  during  his  residence  there  : 

Dear  Brother — 

I  have  been  hoping  for  a  private  opportunity  to  transmit 
a  letter  to  you ;  but  not  finding-  it,  and  being  unable  to  wait 
any  longer,  I  sit  down  to  write  by  mail.  And  I  hope  you 
will  be  kind  enough  to  do  the  same  by  me.  I  have  been 
waiting  very  impatiently  for  a  letter  from  Mr.  Mills,  in  answer  to 
the  one  which,  at  his  request,  I  wrote  him.  1  will  thank  you 
to  show  him  this  letter,  and  give  my  love  to  him,  and  let  him 
know  1  am  anxious  to  hear  from  bun,  as  I  shall  be  from  you. 
Give  my  love  also  to  Mr.  Miller,  and  all  the  rest  of  our  dear 
circle  of  ministers ;  and  let  them  know  I  shall  consider  it  a 
favor  if  they  will  write.  I  want  to  hear  all  about  you — the 
state  of  your  monthly  meetings — of  religion — of  all  dear 
friends — and  particularly  every  thing  about  my  church  and 
people,  which  you  can  possibly  think  of.  Brother  Washburn 
writes  that  your  circle  love  yet  to  pray,  and  that  Jesus  some- 


52  RESIDENCE  AT 

times  comes  in  the  midst.  I  long  to  be  with  you.  The  sweet 
days  of  other  years,  especially  the  beloved  seasons  on  the  well 
known  mountain,  sometimes  come  on  my  mind,  and  almost 
overwhelm  me. 

Those  days  are  past,  alas,  to  return  again  no  more.  You 
know  not  how  much  I  miss  that  precious  and  united  brother- 
hood of  ministers.  The  ministers  here  are  agreeable,  friendly 
and  pious,  but  I  have  not  prayed,  and  wept,  and  triumphed 
with  them.  I  shall  never  see  such  another  circle.  They 
were  my  first  love.  Alas!  can  they  be  mine  no  more?  Let 
God  ultimately  decide  this  question;  and  let  us  submit.  I 
hope,  one  day,  we  shall  all  meet  to  part  no  more  forever. 
How  transporting — how  soothing  will  be  that  meeting  after 
the  tedious  lonely  years  of  separation !  Oh  when  will  it  once 
be! 

"  March  4th.  I  had  written  thus  far  last  evening,  when  1 
was  interrupted  by  some  people  who  came  in  to  converse  about 
religion.  Oh  my  brother,  with  what  words  shall  I  acknow- 
ledge the  most  wonderful  goodness  of  God  to  a  poor  unworthy 
sinner,  who  has  trembled  for  fear  that  God  was  about  to 
thrust  him  out  of  the  ministry,  and  employ  him  no  more  in 
his  glorious  service.  Contrary  to  all  expectations,  God  has 
given  me  the  desire  of  my  heart,  and  suffered  me  once  more 
to  see  his  power  and  glor}^,  so  as  we  have  together  seen  them 
in  the  sanctuary.  The  God  who  appeared  in  the  little  school 
house  when  it  was  proclaimed  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was 
passing  by, — God  of  all  our  former  revivals — hath  in  bound- 
less mercy  appeared  in  this  place.  In  some  neighboring  places 
he  has  been,  for  the  winter  and  year  past,  displaying  his  glory. 
Latterly  he  hath  revived  our  hopes  even  here. 

"  The  first  encouraging  appearance  was  a  crowded  and  so- 
lemn house  on  the  Sabbath — next,  we  began  to  hear  praying 
people  express  their  hopes  and  desires  that  God  would  appear 
in  his  glory  here.  For  two  months  the  waters  of  the  sanctua- 
ry have  been  silently  rising.  The  prayers  and  tears  of  God's 
people  have  evinced  the  struggles  and  the  longings  of  their 
souls.     Lately  the  secret  and  enkindling  fire  has  broke  out 


NEW-HARTFORD,  53 

into  a  glorious  flame.  People  who  formerly  used  the  language 
of  the  Red  Sea,  and  who  have  since  for  years,  been  buried  up 
in  the  world,  now  come  forward  to  accuse  themselves,  and  to 
lament  with  tears  over  their  neglects.  Others,  who  have  had 
an  indistinguishable  hope  for  many  years,  are  emerging  into 
clear  and  joyous  light.  The  more  confirmed  and  experienced 
christians,  who  have  waited  long  for  the  salvation  of  Israel, 
are  triumphing  and  praising,  and  some  of  the  aged,  crymg 
with  Simeon,  '  Now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart,'  &c.  In 
other  cases  all  hopes  are  shaken.  Generally,  the  dry  bones 
tremble  and  quake ;  and  some  few,  we  hope,  begin  to  live. 
A  very  great  and  increasing  impression  seems  to  rest  on  the 
whole  society.  This  is  the  Lord's  doing,  and  it  is  marvellous 
in  our  eyes.  Some  people  who  have  not  been  to  meeting  for 
ten  or  twenty  years,  are  out, — attend  with  tears,  and  are 
among  the  number  of  those  that  tremble.  People  come  in 
from  abroad  to  behold  the  wonders  of  God,  and  go  away 
seemingly  impressed.  May  this  glorious  work  spread  from 
town  to  town,  and  from  land  to  land,  until  the  world  shall  be 
deluged  in  a  flood  of  glory,  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea. 

Some  alarming  providences  of  God  have  greatly  tended  to 
promote  this  work.  And  indeed,  every  feature  of  it  proves  it 
to  be  a  work  of  God,  and  not  of  man.  And  let  God,  and  not 
man,  have  all  the  glory.  Accursed  be  the  wretch  who  could 
have  the  heart  to  pilfer  it  from  him.  I  have  not  written  half 
enough,  but  my  paper  fails.  We  have  two  crowded  confeien- 
ces  in  a  week,  one  lecture,  one  private  prayer  meeting,  and  I 
am  about  to  appoint  a  private  conference  for  only  the  awaken- 
ed. I  have  only  room  to  add,  that  I  am  your  ever  affectionate 
brother, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

The  congregation  were  desirous  of  giving  him  a 
call,  but  he  discouraged  it  on  the  ground  that,  if  the 
health  of  Mrs.  G.  would  permit  him  to  remain  at 
New-Hartford,  he  was  unwilling  to  leave  it  for  any 
other  place.     The  people  of  Newark,  however. 


54  RESIDENCE  AT  NEW-HARTFORD. 

without  having  previously  communicated  to  him 
their  intention,  actually  made  out  a  call  for  him  to 
settle  as  colleague  with  the  venerable  Doctor  Mc- 
Whorter.  In  June  they  returned  to  New-Hartford, 
carrying  with  them  an  infant  daughter,  Frances 
Louisa,  who  had  been  born  during  the  period  of 
their  sojourn  at  Orange.  They  returned,  however, 
only  to  make  arrangements  for  an  ultimate  remo- 
val ;  for  Mrs.  G.  had  become  so  confirmed  in  the 
opinion  that  a  more  southern  cHmate  was  essential 
to  her  health,  that  her  husband  could  not  doubt  that 
the  providence  of  God  pointed  him  to  another  field 
of  labor.  Accordingly  his  pastoral  relation  to  the 
church  at  New-Hartford  was  dissolved  by  mutual 
consent  in  August,  though  not  without  many  severe 
struggles  on  his  part  and  the  deepest  regrets  on  the 
part  of  his  people. 


CHAPTER  III. 


HIS  FIRST  RESIDENCE  AT  NEWARK. 


Immediately  after  resigning  his  pastoral  charge 
at  New-Hartford,  Mr.  Griffin  returned  with  his 
family  to  Newark,  accepted  the  call  which  had  pre- 
viously been  given  him,  and  on  the  20th  of  Octo- 
ber, 1801,  was  installed  Colleague  Pastor  with  the 
Rev.  Dr.  McWhorter.  The  congregation  over 
which  he  was  placed  was  one  of  the  largest  and 
most  respectable  in  the  United  States ;  qualified  in 
every  respect  to  estimate  the  labors  of  a  most  elo- 
quent, gifted  and  devoted  minister. 

For  nearly  three  years  from  April  1799,  Mr.  G. 
seems  to  have  kept  no  record  of  his  private  reli- 
gious exercises,  owing  probably,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure to  his  having  been,  during  a  part  of  the  time, 
in  an  unsettled  state,  and  for  some  time  after  he 
went  to  Newark,  greatly  burdened  with  care.  He 
resumes  his  journal  under  date  of  January  30th, 
1803,  as  follows : 

Spent  the  last  week  on  a  preaching  tour,  in  the  neighbor- 
ing congregations,  where  a  glorious  work  of  God's  grace  ap- 
pears to  be  beginning.  Have  been  deeply  impressed  of  late, 
with  a  conviction  of  a  great  mistake  which  I  made  in  some 
former  revivals.     My  mother's  children  made  me  the  keeper 


56  FIRST    RESIDENCE 

of  their  vineyard,  but  ray  own  I  did  not  keep.  Being  often 
engaged  in  public  prayers,  I  thought  it  was  neither  necessary 
nor  practicable  to  attend  so  much  at  large  to  the  duties  of  the 
closet.  And  when  I  preached  or  heard  preaching,  I  was  so 
concerned  for  others,  that  I  did  not  sufficiently  apply  the  truth 
to  myself,  and  my  prayers  were  so  much  upon  others,  that  I 
did  not  enough  pray  for  the  promotion  of  religion  in  my  own 
heart.  The  consequence  was  twofold :  I  got  away  from  God, 
and  the  duties  of  the  closet  have  never  been  so  faithfully  at- 
tended since ;  and  further,  I  was  lifted  up  by  divine  favors, 
and  had  need  to  be  left  to  fall  into  sin  to  humble  me.  But 
lately  I  have  resolved  more  to  seek  the  advancement  of  reli- 
gion in  myself,  while  I  endeavor  to  promote  it  in  others,  and 
have  desired  to  be  converted,  and  to  catch  the  shower  which 
is  falUng  around  me.  Lord,  while  thou  art  converting  sin- 
ners and  infidels,  and  giving  thy  people  a  fresh  unction,  I  pray 
that  I  may  be  the  subject  of  these  renewing  influences,  whe- 
ther I  have  ever  felt  them  before  or  not.  I  desire  to  consider 
myself  only  as  a  needy  sinner,  and  to  put  myself  in  the  way 
of  these  influences  which  are  shed  down  upon  others.  O  why 
may  I  not  be  converted  by  them,  as  well  as  those  around  me? 
February  5.  I  have  just  been  reading  a  most  admirable 
piece,  recommending  the  dispersion  of  religious  tracts.  The 
writer  possesses  precisely  those  views  of  the  superior  impor- 
tance of  laboring  for  the  soul,  which  1  have  generally  had. 
It  has  inflamed  my  desire  to  add  the  dispersion  of  such  tracts 
to  my  other  attempts  to  promote  (what  I  now  hope  I  can  say 
is  my  favorite  object)  the  salvation  of  men,  the  advancement 
of  that  beloved  cause  which  it  cost  the  Saviour  so  much  to 
estabhsh.  O  to  employ  every  faculty  during  life,  and  to  seize 
every  new  measure  to  promote  this  object.  To  have  pious 
tracts  to  carry  out  with  me  when  I  walk  or  ride  abroad,  or 
when  I  take  a  journey, — how  would  it  tend  to  keep  my  heart, 
to  keep  my  eye,  on  the  great  end  of  life,  and  to  increase  my 
usefulness.  My  soul  swells  at  the  prospect.  O  this  is  such  a 
life  as  I  desire,  I  thank  God  for  the  new  impression.  I  pray 
that  it  may  lead  to  great  good.     I  pray  that  it  may  never  sub- 


AT    NEWARK.  57 

side,  but  be  increased^  until  it  fixes  me  in  tlie  unalterable  ha- 
bit of  striving  for  usefulness  in  this  way.  It  is  now  in  my 
heart  to  endeavor  to  engage  others  in  this  measure.  Lord,  if 
this  impression  is  from  thee,  and  is  designed  to  lead  to  the  pro- 
motion of  a  religious  tract  society,  O  give  me  wisdom,  smile 
on  the  design,  and  open  a  way  for  its  accomplishment,  and 
may  this  impression  lead  to  the  salvation  of  thousands. 

February  lAth.  1  have  been  set  upon  conversing  more  with 
my  family.  I  find  it  is  the  best,  yes  the  very  best,  remedy 
against  my  greatest  dangers.  If  my  soul  were  set  on  the  sal- 
vation of  my  house,  probably  salvation  would  come  to  them, 
and  we  should  have  a  little  heaven  below  the  skies.  I  most 
earnestly  desire  thee,  O  God,  whilst  thou  art  making  me  the 
instrument  of  good  to  others,  to  indulge  me  with  the  happi- 
ness of  seeing  thy  power  rest  upon  my  poor  family,  O  why 
may  not  we  be  sharers  in  thy  salvation  which  is  so  profusely 
bestowed  on  others  ?  I  feel  a  strong  desire,  and  see  the  neces- 
sity, to  support  unremitted  watchfulness,  prayer  and  depen- 
dance  on  the  strengtli  of  Christ,  and  to  commit  my  salvation 
more  into  his  hands.  I  think  I  feel  more  humble  and  depen- 
dant, and  more  of  a  christian  temper  than  for  years  past.  I 
clearly  see  that  Christ  can  enable  me  to  overcome  temptation. 
The  keeping  of  the  saints  amidst  their  dangers  and  fears,  is 
by  him  who  supports  the  mountains,  and  whose  faithfulness 
changes  not.  To  him  I  commit  myself,  rejoicing.  I  see  by 
what  wondrous  measures  he  is  now  delivering  me  from  my 
enemies  which  were  too  strong  for  me.  He  Avill  deliver  and 
make  me  a  monument  of  his  heaven-astonishing  grace.  I 
have  been  lately  wishing  to  be  taken  up  by  some  mighty  pow- 
er, and  get  forward  at  once  very  far  in  my  journey,  so  as  to 
have  little  to  do  afterwards  to  arrive  at  perfect  sanctification. 
But  this  is  a  fruitless  hope.  I  am  enlisted  in  a  warfare,  and 
every  inch  of  ground  must  be  taken  sword  in  hand.  Those 
corruptions  which  are  constitutional  will  live  with  me,  and  die 
only  with  me.  They  wiU  trouble  me  through  life.  The  only 
remedy  is  to  live  near  to  God.  This  alone  is  the  water  which 
will  quench  the  fire.  The  moment  I  get  away  from  him. 
Vol.  I.  8 


58  FIRST    RESIDENCE 

they  will  always  stand  ready  to  hairass  me  and  drive  me 
back.  Divine  enjoyment, — spiritual  pride, — falls,  humiliation, 
jjrayer, — elevation, — enjoyment, — pride, — falls, — humiliation, 
&-C.  &c.  must  be  my  round  through  life.  I  have  lately  found 
that  I  ought  to  turn  my  heart  and  soul  more  immediately  to 
Christ,  and  like  others,  (of  whom  I  have  lately  read,)  mourn 
for  the  feebleness  of  my  love  to  Christ.  Could  I  rest  more 
on  Aim,  I  might  support  habitual  pleasant  contemplations, 
which  render  the  mind  more  like  God.  I  should  then  look 
less  on  perplexities,  and  fix  my  eye  less  on  my  miserable  de- 
pravity, although  I  should  not  see  it  less.  I  have  given  up 
my  worldly  matters  into  the  hands  of  Christ,  and  while  I  am 
caiing  for  his  interest,  I  see  he  is  caring  for  mine.  By  some 
merciful  interpositions,  I  see  he  may  be  fully  trusted  for  my 
daily  brea  1,  end  I  think  I  can  leave  the  rest  with  him. 

If  I  know  any  thing  of  my  heart,  I  am  sure  that  I  care 
more  for  the  success  of  my  ministry  than  for  any  worldly  in- 
terest.    And  upon  a  review  of  my  life,  I  must  be  confident 
that  the  three  strongest  desires  which  have  habitually  influ- 
enced me  for  years,  are  (1.)  To  be  delivered  from  sin.   O  if  this 
could  be,  I  could  bear  any  thing,  and  be  happy  in  poverty  and 
disgrace.    (2.)  To  enjoy  God.     I  think  I  surely  long  more  for 
this  than  riches  or  honors,  and  would  give  up  every  thing  for 
it.    (3.)  That  God's  kingdom  may  come.   When  I  hear  of  any 
appearance  favorable  to  Zion,   my  heart  is  glad.     I  would 
rather  be  an  instrument  in  promoting  this  interest  than  to  wear 
laurels  for  learning,  eloquence,  &.c.     I  think  I  have  had  and 
daily  have,  fair  opportunities  to  make  the  experiment.     Since 
I  have  been  in  this  place,  I  am  more  than  ever  convinced  that 
I  am  spoiled  for  the  world,  that  I  cannot  live  on  popular  breath 
or  the  estimation  of  the  gay.     I  cannot  Hve  confined  to  their 
society.  The  company  of  the  pious,  though  poor,  is  far  sweeter. 
I  must  have  the  conscience  of  good  people  on  the  side  of  my 
preaching,  or  all  the  applauses  of  the  world  are  irksome  and 
terrifying  to  me.     I  must  have  christians  for  my  companions, 
and  caimot  live  in  the  world.     I  know  I  have  a  dreadful  body 
of  sin  struggling  within  me.     I  know  that  pride  has  much 


AT    NEWARK.  59 

influence  in  my  best  public  duties,  and  has  more  influence  on 
my  deliberate  and  habitual  conduct  than  any  other  wrong  af- 
fection ;  but  I  think  it  does  not  govern.  Still  I  ought  to  be 
cautious.  My  zeal  to  propagate  the  truth  may  be  a  proud  and 
wilful  desire  to  support  my  own  sentiments.  From  the  zeal 
which  appears  in  politics,  and  among  the  most  corrupt  sects 
in  the  christian  church,  it  is  evident  that  this  is  one  of  the 
most  powerful  principles  of  the  natural  heart.  And  when  I 
see  the  worshippers  of  Moloch  flaming  with  zeal  for  their  god, 
and  sacrificing  their  very  children  to  him,  my  heart  says, — 
What  zeal,  what  sacrifices,  what  willingness  to  resign  up  a 
child  to  God,  can  I  depend  on  as  evidence  of  true  religion  ? 

February  26th.  Yesterday  I  sensibly  felt  for  a  moment 
what  boldness  and  fortitude  in  preaching  would  result  from 
disinterested  humility,  that  should  be  perfectly  indiflTerent  to 
the  good  opinions  of  others  as  a  personal  honor ;  and  saw  liow 
different  was  the  assurance  of  a  self-confident  spirit;  and  had 
a  glimpse  of  the  principle  which  rendered  the  meek  and  hum- 
ble Jesus  so  intrepid. 

Monday,  February  28th.  Yesterday  I  went  to  the  house 
of  God  under  a  great  sense  of  ray  own  unworthiness,  and 
fearful  of  making  attempts  at  eloquence,  lest  I  should  be  in- 
fluenced by  pride.  I  endeavored  to  speak  with  all  the  simpli- 
city and  sincerity  of  one  who  had  no  regard  to  the  opinions  of 
men,  any  farther  than  not  to  injure  the  cause  of  religion,  and 
I  found  myself  much  assisted,  although  I  depended  much  on 
extemporaneous  exertion.  I  found  a  solemn  sense  of  divine 
things  more  beneficial,  even  to  render  my  services  acceptable, 
than  all  the  flourish  of  affected  zeal  and  eloquence.  Let  this 
remove  the  objection,  that  if  I  should  become  unstudious  to 
please,  I  should  lose  my  influence  and  degrade  the  gospel. 

I  have  lately  been  so  fearful  of  selfishness  and  pride  that  I 
have  scarcely  dared  to  move,  I  now  see  that  their  motions 
have  been  as  constant  as  the  palpitations  of  my  heart,  and 
have  exerted  an  uninterrupted  influence  on  my  external  con- 
duct,— sometimes  to  spur  me  forward  to  zeal  in  the  line  of 
duty,  sometimes  to  hold  me  back  and  to  weaken  my  exer- 


60 


FIRST    RESIDENCE 


tionsj  and  sometimes  to  turn  my  feet  aside  from  the  right  path. 
Let  me  never  again  be  bhnd  to  their  motions,  or  be  at  a  loss 
when  to  find  them  in  my  heart.  O  how  can  I  bear  to  Uve 
with  these  filthy  vipers  in  my  bosom  until  I  am  fifty  or  sixty 
years  old  ?  But  it  must  be,  if  I  live  at  all.  What  can  I  do 
but  resist  them  with  all  the  strength  that  God  shall  give  me, 
and  take  care  that  they  are  not  suffered  to  shape  or  influence 
my  outward  conduct?  But  of  this  I  am  sure,  that  I  must  not 
omit  or  relax  in  a  single  duty,  for  fear  of  being  influenced  by 
improper  feelings.  I  must  pursue  my  course  and  strive  to  pu- 
rify my  motives. 

When  I  see  those  of  whom  I  have  formed  the  best  opinion, 
complaining  and  mourning  for  sin,  saying  that  they  view 
themselves  the  greatest  of  sinners;  professing  more  readily 
than  any  other  grace,  a  deep  sense  that  they  deserve  nothing 
at  the  hands  of  God,  that  they  have  not  the  least  dependance 
on  anything  they  have  ever  done,  that  they  are  willing  to  be 
saved  by  mere  mercy,  and  that  God  should  take  the  credit  of 
their  salvation  to  himself ;  when  I  see  them  afraid  of  decep- 
tion and  jealous  of  themselves ;  I  am  conscious  that  all  this 
is  exactly  my  own  habitual  experience ;  but  then  I  apprehend 
that  my  consciousness  of  being  unworthy  arises,  (not  like 
theirs,  from  a  superior  acquaintance  with  my  own  heart,  but) 
from  the  obviousness  of  my  sins.  When  I  hear  a  dying  saint 
say  of  her  bodily  pains,  "  These  are  nothing  to  the  pains  of 
sin ;"  my  whole  heart  says  Amen.  With  Mrs.  Rowe  I  think 
I  can  certainly  and  habitually  say.  If  God  should  bid  me  form 
a  wish,  and  take  whatever  in  heaven  or  earth  I  had  to  ask,  it 
should  not  be  the  wealth  of  this  world,  nor  the  crowns  of 
princes:  no,  nor  yet  the  wreaths  of  martyrs  nor  thrones  of 
archangels:  ray  first  request  is  to  be  made  holy:  this  is  my 
highest  concern.  When  I  hear  the  most  humble  christians 
declare  that  they  have  not  the  least  hope  of  advancing  one 
foot  in  their  course,  any  farther  than  they  are  carried  by  God,-— 
that  they  have  no  strength  against  one  temptation — that  they 
shall  do  every  thing  that  they  are  left  to  do, — that  their  only 
hope  for  pardon,  strength,  and  life,  is  in  God;  I  know  that  I 


AT  NEWARK.  61 

habitually  feel  the  same :  Yet  I  fear  that  conscience  may  do 
all  this.  When  I  heard  an  eminent  saint  to-day  declare  that 
the  days  of  her  affliction  had  been  the  sweetest  days  of  her 
life,  I  knew  that  I  could  say  the  same ;  and  then  my  soul  re- 
plied, What  is  it  that  can  have  made  my  afflictions  so  happy, 
if  I  had  not  true  religion?  My  soul  trusted  in  God  that  he 
would  do  right,  and  would  protect  me  as  far  as  it  was  best,  and 
make  the  trials  work  for  my  good ;  and  I  felt  a  delight  in  com- 
mitting the  case  to  him,  leaning  on,  and  communing  with 
him.  Could  all  this  arise  from  the  mistaken  supposition  that 
he  was  my  friend  ?  But  yet,  if  I  love  him,  why  do  I  not 
keep  his  commandments  ? 

How  impudent  is  sin  !  It  would  lead  one  on  to  commit  the 
most  daring  crimes  when  conscience  testifies  that  God  is  look- 
ing on,  and  would  deliberately  rush  upon  the  thick  bosses  of 
his  buckler.  When  it  acts  in  an  Atheist,  it  does  not  appear 
so  impudent,  as  when  it  shows  all  its  airs  by  the  very  side  of 
an  awakened  conscience.  In  christians  its  awful  impudence 
appears  to  the  greatest  advantage ;  which  probably  was  one 
reason  that  such  a  body  of  sin  was  left  to  abide  and  work  in 
sanctified  hearts.  Here  it  discovers  its  true  nature,  and  shows 
itself  to  be  as  impudent  as  hell. 

March  12th.  A  great  sinner  I  am,  and  I  have  a  great  sense 
of  it;  but  is  it  anything  more  than  conscience?  Could  I  so 
conduct  myself  if  I  had  rehgion?  And  without  it  conscience 
would  not  sleep  in  a  man  in  my  station,  and  studies,  and  living 
in  an  awakening.  But  if  I  have  a  sanctified  part  within  me, 
I  have  amazingly  strong  corruptions  too.  Yet  if  I  have  not 
a  sanctified  part,  what  mean  these  exercises?  The  other  day, 
under  an  exquisite  sense  of  sin,  I  clearly  felt  that  all  that  I 
could  do  could,  in  the  nature  of  things,  have  no  tendency  to 
atone  for  the  least  sin.  I  believe  the  feeling  is  habitual,  and 
that  I  am  not  erecting  a  superstructure  of  self-righteousness. 
To-day  the  feehng  returned,  and  while  I  was  thinking  what 
sacrifice  I  would  be  willing  to  make  to  escape  the  dominion  of 
sin,  I  forgot  myself,  and  turned  in  my  mind  what  I  would 
be  wiUing  to  suffer  to  atone  for  what  is  past.     But  I  was  awa- 


t)25  FIRST   RESIDENCE 

kened  out  of  my  reverie  by  the  disgust  which  arose  from  such 
a  thought ;  a  disgust  which  I  did  not  artificially  raise ;  for  my 
reasoning  powers  were  so  absent,  (I  not  being  in  self-exami- 
nation, but  borne  down  under  a  sense  of  sin,)  that  I  pursued 
the  thought  as  though  I  expected  to  find  pleasure  in  it.  I  felt 
that  all  the  atonement  that  I  could  make  (accepted  or  not  ac- 
cepted) was  insipid,  and  had  no  relish  with  my  soul.  It  was 
free  grace  that  I  wanted.  If  I  know  my  heart,  I  am  willing 
to  receive  mercy,  and  on  God's  own  terms.  My  heart  is  sub- 
missive and  pliable.  I  would  come  to  any  terms  which  God 
should  appoint.  I  think  I  certainly  desire,  above  all  things  of 
a  personal  nature,  pardon  by  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ, — 
strength,  and  assurance  of  strength  to  carry  me  through  my 
warfare,  (the  thought  of  being  strengthened  and  loved  by  a 
lovely,  all-sufficient  Saviour,  how  sweet!)  and  a  complete  de- 
liverance from  sin ;  or  if  I  must  still  sin,  that  it  may  be  the 
means  of  humbUng  me,  making  me  more  circumspect,  and 
exalting  the  riches  of  free,  astonishing  grace.  I  have,  in  a 
lecture,  been  studying  to  discriminate  between  true  and  false 
repentance;  and  have  inquired,  (1.)  Is  your  sense  of  sin  con- 
nected with  a  sense  of  the  purity,  holiness,  and  justice  of  God? 
My  heart  replied.  Yes,  as  I  wish  not  to  make  any  alteration 
in  Him.     I  wish  him  not  to  be  less  an  enemy  to  my  sins ;  but 

0  for  pardon  and  strength.  (2.)  Have  you  much  anxiety  for 
the  sins  of  your  heart,  as  well  as  conduct ;  setting  a  guard 
over  small  sins  which  are  invisible  to  the  world  ?     Certainly, 

1  have  lately,  as  is  evident  from  my  late  journal.  (3.)  Does 
your  repentance  produce  actual  renunciation  of  sin ;  making 
you  resolute  not  to  spare  any  sin,  even  those  which  may  con- 
duce most  to  present  advantage?  Does  it  render  you  meek, 
gentle,  and  humble,  easy  to  be  entreated,  full  of  mercy  and 
good  fruits  ?  Here  I  pause. — I  cannot  answer  in  the  affirma^ 
live  to  all  this.  I  think  there  is  no  favorite  sin  that  I  would 
wish  to  retain,  whatever  the  renunciation  of  it  would  cost  me; 
and  that  there  is  no  duty  which  I  would  wilUngly  neglect 
whatever  be  the  sacrifice  or  labor,  or  immediate  consequence 
to  me.     I  feel  gentle,  submissive,  and  broken — But  ah  !  my 


AT    NEWARK.  63, 

Strong  corruptions.  When  I  would  do  good,  evil  is  present 
with  me :  and  what  I  would  not  that  do  I.  O  wretched  man 
that  I  am ! 

Have  been  reading  my  journal.  How  solemn  the  review  of 
past  years !  What  an  awful  examination  shall  I  sustain  when 
all  the  sins  of  my  life  shall  be  collected  together,  and  an  ac- 
coimt  taken  of  them.  Black  has  been  my  life ;  I  need  seas 
of  blood  to  wash  me  clean.  Egypt  never  was  darker.  Aw- 
ful !  awful !  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  !  By  my  jour- 
nal I  was  much  struck  with  the  distresses  which  sin  has  caus- 
ed me  through  so  many  years.  O  let  it  not  be  suffered  so  to 
disturb  my  peace  again,  and  turn  my  years  into  years  of  hell. 
If  I  have  any  wisdom  I  shall  be  taught  with  the  briers  and 
thorns  of  former  days.  In  reading  this  moment  the  88th 
Psalm,  I  perceived  that  good  men  have  gone  through  dread- 
ful scenes ;  and  I  could  say  with  Heman,  "  I  am  afflicted  and 
ready  to  die  from  my  youth  up  ;  while  I  suffer  thy  terrors  I 
am  distracted."  A  momentary  sweetness  passed  through  my 
mind,  Avhile  in  his  language  I  plead,  ''  Shall  thy  loving  kind- 
red be  declared  in  the  grave,  or  thy  faithfulness  in  destruc- 
tion ?  Shall  thy  wonders  be  known  in  the  dark,"  &c.  In 
the  darkness  and  distress  which  I  felt  about  leaving  New- 
Hartford,  and  amidst  the  apprehension,  (like  thai  of  Jonah, 
whose  sins  I  imitated,)  '•'  I  am  cast  out  of  thy  sight,"  the 
Lord  was  at  work  beyond  the  bounds  of  my  sight  to  prepare 
this  station  of  usefulness  and  happiness  for  me.  This  is  fact. 
I  see,  therefore,  that  it  may  be  the  case,  that  amidst  my  pre- 
sent darkness,  he  is  preparing  for  me  joys  for  following  years, 
and  a  pleasant  habitation  forever. 

[Written  January  9th,  1830.]  A  scene  which  took  place  in 
the  forenoon  of  March  14th,  1803,  I  have  never  forgotten. 
As  I  was  walking  the  streets  of  Newark,  pondering  upon  my 
sins,  a  flash  of  light  came  across  my  mind,  sending  home  a 
conviction  of  sin,  which  instantly  deprived  me  of  hope.  I  do 
not  know  that  I  could  be  more  sure  of  being  in  an  unregene-^ 
rated  state  if  I  were  in  hell.  The  following  dial(^ue  then 
took  place  with  myself :  "  Well,  go  to  Christ,  as  you  direct 


64  FIRST    RESIDENCE 

Other  sinners  to  do."  "  But  he  is  away  beyond  the  hills,  and  I 
cannot  get  to  him."  "  Well,  ask  God  to  bring  you  to  him." 
"  But  the  prayers  of  the  unregenerate  cannot  ascend  above  the 
clouds.  I  have  nothing  to  stand  upon  to  begin."  I  felt  then 
totally  undone, — helpless  and  hopeless.  I  died  then,  as  Paul 
did  on  the  plains  of  Damascus.  Instantly  the  scene  changed. 
"  Well,  if  that  God  who,  self-moved,  let  down  a  hand  to  pluck 
Abraham  and  David  from  a  state  of  unregeneracy,  self-moved 
shall  let  down  a  hand  to  pluck  me  from  destruction.  I  live ; 
otherwise  I  die."  I  was  composed  in  a  moment,  and  seemed 
to  lie  down  at  his  feet,  and  rest  every  issue  on  his  will,  with- 
out a  struggle.  And  had  the  words  of  the  leper  been  in  ray 
mind,  (Mat.  viii.  2,)  "  Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  can?t  make 
me  clean,"  they  would  have  exactly  expressed  my  feelings ; 
they  would  have  expressed  precisely  all  the  hope  I  had.  Was 
not  this  a  casting  of  myself  entirely  on  the  sovereign  mercy  of 
God  ?  •  Was  not  this  resting  every  hope,  tranquilly,  upon  his 
sovereign  will  ?  This  I  have  learnt  from  the  reflections  of 
near  seven  and  twenty  years,  to  call  the  dernier  resort. 

In  that  spot,  at  God's  feet,  without  asking  him  what  he 
would  do  with  me,  I  chose  to  lie,  contented  to  have  his  will 
done,  and  fearing  to  know  the  result,  lest,  if  it  should  prove 
favorable,  (which  betrayed  a  secret  hope,)  I  should  be  proud. 
Thus  I  continued  through  Monday  and  Tuesday.  But  out 
of  that  death  and  submission  arose  the  life  and  light  that  fol- 
lowed ;  just  as  in  the  case  of  the  first  death  and  resurrection 
of  the  sinner,  his  death  to  all  hope,  (Romans,  viii.  9,)  and 
his  resurrection  to  hope  in  Christ. 

The  week  that  followed  changed  the  whole  character  of  my 
experiences  and  preaching,  and  made  them  permanently  more 
full  of  Christ. 

Monday^  March  lAth.  I  set  out  on  a  preaching  tour  among 
the  neighboring  congregations ;  and  the  Lord,  both  on  this 
and  former  tours,  has  bestowed  the  greatest  personal  blessings 
on  me,  while  I  have  been  laboring  for  him.  On  Monday  and 
Tuesday  I  allowed  not  myself  to  hope  that  I  was  a  Christian, 
put  myself  in  the  attitude  of  an  awakened  sinner,  applying 


AT    NEWARK.  65 

the  sermons  which  I  heard  addressed  to  sinners  to  myself; 
pleaded  for  an  interest  in  Christ ;  felt  a  tender  conscience ; 
was  very  fearful  of  pride  and  every  movement  of  animal  affec- 
tion, which  should  lessen  a  sense  of  my  ruined  condition  and 
total  dependance  on  sovereign  mercy  ;  felt  most  happy  in  this 
state  of  mind ;  felt  uncomfortable,  when  for  a  moment  I  lost  a 
sense  of  my  straits  and  necessities,  and  coveted  the  pleasuie  of 
lying,  all  my  hfe,  at  the  feet  of  God,  trembling  in  uncertainty, 
that  I  might  enjoy  a  sense  of  dependance,  and  feel  after  a  pre- 
cious Saviour.  I  had  for  some  weeks  been  much  in  the  same 
frame,  and  had  fully  felt  that  I  was  utterly  in  the  hands  of  a 
sovereign  God  ;  that  if  he  should  not  renew  me,  I  should 
perish  ;  that  if  he  should  not  be  disposed  to  give  me  an  interest 
in  Christ,  all  exertion  could  not  move  him  to  it,  and  that  my 
eternal  life  hung  suspended  on  his  mere  pleasure.  I  longed 
after  deliverance  from  sin  ;  longed  to  be  made  holy  by  the  in- 
fluences which  are  descending  around  me ;  but  dreaded  flights 
of  joy,  lest  they  should  raise  me  from  my  proper  place.  All 
these  exercises  had  been  very  distinct.  Monday  I  was  at 
Springfield,  and  Tuesday  at  Bottlehill ;  accompanied  on  the 
tour  by  Mr.  Thompson.  Mr.  Richards  met  me  at  Bottlehill, 
and  staid  all  night  with  me.  In  the  evening  we  discoursed 
largely  on  the  subject  of  christian  experience;  I  proposing 
questions  for  him  to  solve  respecting  the  decisiveness  or  indeci- 
siveness  of  sundry  marks  of  piety.  I  expressed  to  him  my 
doubts  of  my  own  religion.  I  complained  that  I  had  always 
found  it  difficult  realizingly  to  feel  that  I  deserved  eternal 
punishment.  He  said  that  christians  obtained  this  sense  by 
seeing  that  God  is  so  unspeakably  lovely,  that  no  conceivable 
punishment  is  great  enough  for  sinning  against  him  ;  that  he 
had  seen  God's  holiness,  purity  and  justice  to  be  so  glorious^ 
that  it  appeared  if  men  should  never  commit  an  outward  sin, 
they  would  deserve  to  be  eternally  damned  for  not  loving  him. 
While  he  was  conversing,  I  thought  I  had  some  glimpse  of 
the  excellent  purity,  grandeur,  avvfulness,  and  sweetness  of 
divine  hoUness ;  and  saw  that  I  had  been  searching  for  the 
door  of  deliverance,  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  room,  in  seeking 
Vol.  1.  9 


66  FIRST    RESIDENCE 

a  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin  from  examining  what  I  had  done 
rather  than  what  God  is.  I  was  convinced  that  a  view  of  the 
purity  of  God  would  best  discover  the  awful  nature  of  sin,  and 
would  be  most  effectual  to  produce  true  and  deep  repentance, 
self-loathing  and  actual  renunciation  of  sin ;  and  my  heart 
said,  "  O  for  such  views  of  God  forever  !"  I  mentioned  ano- 
ther prime  difficulty  that  I  had  always  felt,  viz.  to  apprehend 
Christ  as  bearing  my  sins,  and  being  a  proper  substitute  for 
me.  I  stated  what  efforts  my  reason  had  made  to  examine 
the  nature  and  end  of  the  atonement,  and  to  obtain  this  ap- 
prehension. He  observed  that  common  christians  could  not 
go  into  this  critical  examination  of  the  atonement, — that  with 
them  all  was  a  matter  of  mere  faith  and  reliance  on  the  pro- 
mise and  oath  of  God  to  accept  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  them  ;  and  that  from  a  sense  of  the  value  of  Christ's 
personal  character,  and  consequently  of  his  blood,  they  felt  it 
proper  that  his  death  should  be  accepted  as  a  full  atonement 
for  them.  I  was  convinced  that  I  had  been  substituting  rea- 
son for  faith,  that  I  ought  to  yield  more  implicit  belief  to  the 
testimony  which  God  had  given  of  his  Son,  to  look  with  a  be- 
lieving eye  on  those  precise  aspects  which  his  priesthood  as- 
sumes in  the  first  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  rather  than  on  my 
own  systematical  reasonings,  and  that  a  failure  here  had  been 
my  great  mistake,  by  means  of  which  I  had  been  so  long  des- 
titute of  an  adequate  sense  of  Christ  as  my  substitute.  O  for 
more  faith  and  less  of  the  pride  of  reason  !  O  for  the  meek- 
ness, and  if  I  may  so  say,  the  passiveness  of  faith,  to  submit 
to  the  righteousness  of  God  !  He  disclosed  to  me  a  distressing 
conflict  which  he  formerly  had  had  on  this  point;  which  sub- 
sided in  consequence  of  a  transporting  contemplation  of  Heb. 
vii.  26 :  "  For  such  a  High  Priest  became  us,  who  is  holy, 
harmless,  undefiled,  separate  from  sinners,  and  made  higher 
than  the  heavens."  As  soon  as  these  words  were  mentioned, 
they  appeared  transparent,  and  to  contain  within  them  all  that 
I  wanted,  if  I  could  only  break  the  glass,  and  get  at  the  trea- 
sure.    With  tliese  feelings  I  retired  to  sleep. 


AT    NEWARK.  67 

When  I  awoke,  that  glorious  High  Priest  was  before  me, 
just  as  he  is  expiessed  in  Heb.  vii.  26. 

Wednesday  mornings  l^th.  Having  noted  down  the  par- 
ticulars of  last  evening,  coloring  them  no  doubt  with  the  views 
I  had  this  morning,  I  then  proceeded  in  my  diary  thus.  Read 
the  context  to  the  verse  which  was  repeated  last  evening.  O 
what  emphasis  does  Paul,  throughout  this  Epistle,  lay  upon 
the  priesthood  of  Christ : — Much  more  than  I  have  done  in 
my  experiences,  which  have  been  more  concerned  with  the  di- 
vine government,  law,  <fec.  This  morning  I  have  felt  that 
there  is  a  ponderous  reality  in  the  priesthood  of  Christ,  and 
that  it  is  a  great  honor  to  the  holiness  of  God  that  no  sinner 
can  be  admitted  to  him,  but  by  the  sacrifice  of  our  High 
Priest.  My  heart  has  been  moved  and  delighted  with  a  sense 
of  his  priesthood.  There  is  much  more  reahty  in  it  than  I 
have  hitherto  discovered; — a  reality  which  I  am  now  con- 
vinced that  neither  flesh  and  blood,  nor  any  reasonings  can 
reveal.  I  begin  to  think  that  when  saints  get  to  Heaven 
much  of  their  happiness  and  astonishment  will  arise  from 
views  which  they  will  wonder  that  they  had  not  possessed  be- 
fore, as  they  will  be  views  of  that  glorious  scheme  of  salva- 
tion which  had  been  revealed.  I  now  perceive  why  many 
evangelical  ministers  have  in  their  preaching  drawn  the  great- 
est motives  to  love  and  obedience  from  the  cross  of  Christ. 
My  soul  has  some  melting  sense  of  the  blessed  High  Priest, 
the  way  of  access  to  the  awful  majesty  of  divine  purity, — or 
rather,  the  v/ay  into  the  holy  of  holies ;  for  I  feel  that  the  ex- 
pressions made  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  the  Epistle  to  the  He- 
brews, are  best  adapted  to  convey  the  idea  to  our  weak  ap- 
prehension. O  for  clearer  views  of  the  priesthood  of  Christ ! 
O  for  more  faith,  and  less  dependance  on  reason !  These  new 
views,  were  they  clear  enough,  would,  I  perceive,  be  ravish- 
ing, and  would  be  the  best  preservatives  from  sin.  Let  me 
not  seek  darkness,  (under  the  notion  that  ravishing  discove- 
ries would  raise  me  up  to  cast  me  down)  as  a  guard  against 
sin.  This  light  is  the  only  thing  that  will  purify  the  heart. 
It  is  the  cross  of  Christ,  seen  and  felt,  that  must  crucify  sin. 


68  FIRST   RESIDENCE 

0  for  these  views !  Let  this  be  my  search  and  prayer  this  day 
and  forever.  I  am  resolved  to  attend  more  to  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews,  and  will  try  to  drink  from  the  fountain, — to  take 
in  the  precise  representations  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  not  con- 
fine myself  to  artificial  and  systematic  views  of  my  own. 
This  has  been  my  great  mistake.  The  Scriptures  are  admi- 
rably adapted  to  the  weakness  of  our  apprehensions.  I  am 
convinced  that  christians  generally  have  much  more  sense  of 
the  priesthood  of  Christ  than  I  have  had ;  and  hence  this  sub- 
ject, (which  ought  to  have  been  so  conspicuous  and  frequently 
urged,)  has  been  so  awfully  overlooked  in  my  preaching.  It 
has  been  a  just  complaint  that  there  was  not  enough  of  Christ 
in  my  sermons.  And  when  I  have  spoken  of  the  atonement 
it  has  been  in  a  clumsy,  systematic  way,  in  which  the  most 
charming  views  of  it  have  been  passed  by.  What  I  have 
said  on  this  subject  has  been  the  stiff  and  frigid  statement  of 
one  devoid  (in  a  great  measure  at  least,)  of  spiritual  discern- 
ment. Before  the  majesty  of  this  spiritual  truth,  how  do  the 
little  arts  of  seizing  the  passions  by  loosely,  lightly,  and  I  had 
almost  said  profanely,  talking  of  Christ's  scars  and  sighs,  bow 
and  flee  away.  In  how  unhallowed  a  manner  have  I  treated 
this  infinitely  dignified,  this  holy  and  heavenly  theme  !  I  now 
perceive  that  self-righteousness  may  be  chiefly  if  not  wholly 
renounced,  without  any  proper  faith  in  the  priesthood  of  Christ, 
(for  I  believe  I  had  mostly  renounced  it  before,)  and  for  aught 

1  know,  without  any  true  religion.  There  will  be  no  self- 
righteousness  in  hell.  And  I  know  not  but  a  sinner  may  be 
so  enlightened  on  earth  as  to  renounce  it.  He  may  undoubt- 
edly like  the  damned  be  convinced  that  he  deserves  misery  and 
no  favor ;  and  what  is  this  but  a  renunciation  of  self-righteous- 
ness ?  If  it  be  asked,  what  then  keeps  him  from  despair  ?  I 
answer  a  hope  that  mercy  may  yet  be  extended  to  him  by  a 
sovereign  God.  If  it  be  asked,  why  does  he  pray  and  use 
means?  I  answer,  because  he  rightly  believes,  that  in  this 
way  he  is  more  likely  to  receive  saving  light,  though  he  is  too 
much  enlightened  to  suppose  his  duties  will  purchase  any  fa- 
vor.    1  am  convinced  at  least,  that  all  these  secondary  signs 


AT    NEWARK.  69 

of  religion  fail  of  satisfying  the  enlightened  and  jealous  mind  • 
that  nothing  can  satisfy  but  a  direct  and  clear  view  of  God 
and  Christ.  O  let  my  mind  be  filled,  be  purified,  be  happy  la 
these  views!  This  will  be  the  peace  which  passeth  under- 
standing. This,  compared  to  a  confinement  of  views  to  my 
sinful  self,  will  be  what  manhood  is  to  infancy.  I  would 
leave  the  first  principles  and  go  on  to  perfection.  By  my  sins 
I  have  been  kept  a  babe,  if  I  be  any  thing.  If  I  have  any,  I 
have  but  very  little  religion. 

During  my  journey  to  Turkey,  the  same  day,  I  could  think 
of  nothing  with  pleasure  but  this  sweet  and  glorious  text ;  and 
when  the  sense  of  it  was  a  little  abated,  I  was  enabled  repeat- 
edly to  renew  it,  by  thinking  for  a  moment  of  the  holiness  of 
God,  and  my  own  impurity  ;  and  then  I  could  again  sweetly 
say,  "  Such  a  High  Priest  became  us,"  &c.  During  Mr. 
Thompson's  sermon  from  the  words,  "  The  soul  that  sinneth, 
it  shall  die,"  my  mind  was  solemnly  fixed  in  a  view  of  the 
reality  of  all  he  said,  in  a  view,  clearer  than  ever  before  of  the 
holiness  of  God, — the  evil  and  ingratitude  of  sin  as  against 
the  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost,  and  the  need  of  this  blessed 
High  Priest,  and  his  love  in  undertaking  and  dying  for  men. 
And  when  1  came  to  speak  after  his  sermon,  I  was  affected, 
spoke  with  simplicity  and  feeling  on  these  points;  informed  the 
people  that  I  could  not  convey  the  sense  I  had  of  the  holiness 
of  God  and  the  glorious  mystery  of  this  High  Priest:  that 
flesh  and  blood,  I  was  sure,  could  not  reveal  it  to  them.  I 
could  not  bear  that  any  should  lose  so  much  as  to  lose  this 
precious  Saviour,  and  affectionately  invited,  and  urged  all  to 
come  to  him.  Although  1  took  no  pains  to  speak,  and  was 
only  struggling  in  vain  to  get  out  the  sense  of  these  things 
which  was  in  my  mind,  the  people  were  melted  under  the  dis- 
course. My  exercises  this  day  will  be  more  discovered  in  what 
I  wrote  next  morning. 

Thursday  mornings  March  V7th.  "  Lord  I  believe ;  help 
thou  my  unbehef "  I  find  that  my  sense  of  the  atonement 
which  depended  on  former  reasonings,  was  not  the  true  sense: 
this  flesh  and  blood  cannot  reveal ;  and  the  only  way  in  which 


70  FIRST    RESIDENCE 

God  reveals  it  is  by  exciting  faith.  We  may  reason  on  the 
fitness  of  the  atonement;  and  after  all,  the  true  sense  of  it 
comes  only  by  implicit  belief  of  the  heart,  in  the  word  and 
oath  by  which  Jesus  was  constituted  and  declared  the  High 
Priest  of  the  world.  God  has  declared,  (and  the  victim  was 
so  precious  that  it  was  proper  for  him  so  to  do,)  that  he  will 
accept  this  sacrifice  for  men,  and  we  must  believe  him,  and 
must  expect  to  discover  the  reality  and  glory  of  the  atonement 
by  faith,  and  not  by  speculation. 

Yesterday  was  a  great  day  with  my  soul.  I  had  very  dis- 
tinct views  of  the  purity  and  holiness  of  God,  of  the  way  of 
access  to  him  by  Christ,  and  of  the  preciousness  of  our  great 
High  Priest ;  insomuch  that  in  my  public  exhortation  I  could 
dwell  on  no  other  subject.  I  longed  to  recommend  this  holy 
God  and  this  blessed  Saviour  to  the  people,  who  seemed  affect- 
ed by  the  representation,  as  being  a  representation  of  great 
things.  After  divine  service  I  told  brother  Thompson  that  if 
these  views,  so  new,  of  those  great  truths  which  are  the  es- 
sence and  pith  of  all  divine  truth,  and  on  which  my  mind  had 
always  labored  with  so  much  darkness,  should  continue,  and 
my  mind  should  remain  so  different  from  what  it  had  ever 
been,  and  if  I  should,  under  the  power  of  these  truths,  lead  a 
new  life,  I  should  almost  conclude  that  I  never  experienced 
the  new  birth  before.  When  Mr.  Thompson  was  preaching 
and  praying,  and  making  so  much  account  of  an  opportunity 
afforded  us  to  escape  from  ruin,  I  thought  he  was,  (and  saw 
that  I  had  been,  in  my  preaching  and  praying,)  too  selfish. 
I  wanted  he  should  make  more  account  of  the  opportunity 
afforded  us  to  worship,  adore,  and  honor  God  and  Christ,  and 
my  heart  refused  to  follow  him  in  prayer,  and  turned  off  to 
these  subjects;  feeling  that  an  opportunity  to  worship  God 
was  the  chief  consideration  which  should  excite  gratitude. 
During  the  day  I  could  think  of  Christ,  and  rejoice  in  him 
without  sensible  exaltation  and  pride ;  a  thing  perhaps  un- 
known to  me  before.  I  felt  that  it  was  reasonable  I  should 
devote  my  life  wholly  to  him,  and  that  I  was  not  my  own  but 
bought  with  a  price.    Sin  appeared  exceeding  sinful,  as  being 


AT    NEWARK.  71 

against  God  and  Christ,  and  derived  all  its  evil  from  this  cir- 
cumstance. I  perceived  that  I  had  been  mistaken  in  suppos- 
ing that  a  direct  view  of  myself  and  my  sins  would  be  the 
most  effectual  guard  against  sin.  From  the  effect  which  a 
present  sense  of  the  love  and  priesthood  of  Christ  had  upon 
my  mind,  I  was  certain  that  these  views  would  prove  the 
surest  death  of  sin ;  that  it  was  the  cross  of  Christ  that  must 
crucify  it.  Now  I  resolved  to  seek  for  these  views  of  him  in 
order  to  conquer.  Formerly  I  felt  that  God  and  Christ  were 
set  in  opposition  to  each  other,  and  was  in  danger  of  conceiv- 
ing of  Christ  as  taking  our  part,  and  of  God  as  being  against 
us.  But  now  they  appeared  to  be  wonderfully  united.  It 
seemed  that  in  all  that  the  Son  had  done  to  introduce  sinners 
to  God,  he  was  cheerfully  honoring  the  divine  holiness; 
which  seemed  to  be  greatly  honored,  in  that  sinners  are  not 
suffered  to  approach  God  but  through  the  blood  of  the  High 
Priest;  that  the  Father  in  his  readiness  to  send  his  Son  into 
the  world,  and  then  to  receive  sinners  through  him,  had  as 
much  love  for  men  as  had  the  Son ;  that  Christ  was  not  tak- 
ing the  part  of  man  against  holiness,  and  that  the  Father  was 
ready  to  take  the  part  of  man  in  a  way  consistent  with  hoU- 
ness,  being  as  wiUing  to  receive  sinners  through  his  Son,  as 
his  Son  was  to  be  the  medium  and  intercessor  ;  and  that  it 
was  out  of  regard  to  the  holiness  of  God  that  the  Son  is  the 
High  Priest  to  bring  sinners  near  to  him.  There  appeared  a 
perfect  harmony,  and  no  difference,  between  them.  I  adored, 
delighted  in,  and  was  humbled  before,  this  plan  of  salvation. 
I  saw  it ;  I  saw  it  wonderful  and  glorious, — just  as  I  wished 
to  have  it.  I  wished  to  approach  God  and  be  saved  only  in 
this  way.  I  wished  not  to  have  my  part  taken,  only  as  the 
part  of  hohness  was  taken  by  the  same  means.  This  disco- 
very of  the  holiness  of  God,  and  the  blessed  High  Priest,  was 
like  a  sun  to  cast  hght  all  around.  Every  part  of  truth  open- 
ed to  view, — such  as  the  common  mercies  of  God, — the  love 
of  God  and  Christ, — obligations  to  universal  hoUness, — ingra- 
titude, sin,  &.C.  I  could  not  bear  ever  to  sin  again.  I  felt 
humble,  meek,  gentle,  kindly  affectioned  towards  men,  indif- 


72  FIRST   RESIDENCE 

ferent  to  the  opinions  of  the  world,  to  honors,  distinctions, 
riches,  and  desired  nothing  but  clearer  views  of  God  and  Christ, 
and  to  serve,  glorify,  and  enjoy  him.  These  feelings  were 
not  wrought  up  by  pains:  I  seemed  only  to  lie  still  and  re- 
ceive them.  They  were  not  excited  by  calling  in  aid  the  ani- 
mal affections ;  these  lay  uncommonly  still.  The  view  was 
spiritual,  still,  humbling,  purifying,  abstracting  from  the  world, 
and  silencing  to  selfishness,  pride,  and  every  evil  passion.  All 
was  silent  wonder  and  complacency.  Yet  all  the  time,  though 
happy,  affected,  and  wondering,  I  was  sensible  that  I  had  only 
a  faint  glimpse  of  the  glories  of  God  and  Christ,  and  felt  guilty 
that  I  saw  no  more.  That  blessed  verse  run  in  my  mind,  and 
burst  forth  in  every  prayer,  exhortation,  and  private  discourse. 
When  I,  for  a  moment,  lost  a  sense  of  the  beauty  of  the  plan 
of  grace,  I  would  reflect,  "  For  such  a  High  Priest  became  us 
who  was  holy."  The  holiness  of  the  High  Priest  (which  was 
the  thing  most  sweetly  affecting  to  my  soul,  as  it  showed  me 
that  there  was  one,  polluted  as  I  am,  which  a  holy  God  could 
accept  for  me,)  would  revive  a  deep  sense  of  my  own  impu- 
rity, the  purity  of  God,  and  the  consistency  of  the  plan  of 
grace.  I  feared  to  lose  these  views, — views  of  the  very  thing 
which  I  had  long  desired  to  see.  I  wanted  more  of  them.  I 
feared  hypocritical  worship,  and  every  thing  but  meekness, 
sincerity,  love,  adoration,  faith,  and  gratitude.  In  the  even- 
ing, at  my  lodgings,  I  could  not  but  recommend  this  blessed 
Saviour  to  the  youth  of  the  family.  I  clearly  saw,  what  I 
never  so  saw  before,  that  he  was  a  perfect  medium  of  access 
to  God  for  a  whole  world, — that  all  might  come  to  God  by 
him.  In  my  bed-chamber,  in  secret  prayer,  all  these  views 
were  perhaps  more  clear  than  ever.  I  felt  that  I  might  be 
saved, — that  I  was  brought  near  to  a  pure  God  by  this  High 
Priest,  and  saw  how  I  could  approach  God  and  be  saved  by 
him.  It  was  easier  to  realize  this  great  truth,  (which  had  al- 
ways been  the  most  difficult  of  apprehension,)  than  any  thing 
else.  I  felt  that  I  could  not  pay  any  thing  in  return.  It  was 
all  free,  rich,  astonishing  grace.  I  was  an  eternal  bankrupt, 
overwhelmed  with  obligation.    In  the  hght  of  these  discove- 


AT    NEWARK.  73 

ries,  all  the  common  mercies  of  my  life  swelled  to  an  amazing- 
size.  I  wanted  and  longed  that  my  wife,  child,  sister,  father, 
and  all  my  friends,  and  all  the  world,  should  see,  adore,  and 
enjoy  this  Saviour.  I  felt  like  one  who  had  found  a  great 
treasuie,  and  wished  to  have  all  know  of  it,  and  share  it.  I 
felt  that  I  certainly  did  take  firm  hold  of  the  great  High 
Priest, — that  it  was  clearly  a  right  hold, — that  there  was  not 
a  phantom  in  my  embrace,  but  the  very  High  Priest  whom 
Paul  recommended  to  the  Hebrews.  He  appeared  a  solid  rock 
on  which  I  certainly  stood  firm.  I  had  even  then  no  excitement 
of  animal  affections.  All  was  still,  solid  and  real;  and  for  the 
first  time  I  lay  down  quietly  on  my  bed  in  the  full  assurance 
of  hope ;  not  a  single  doubt  of  my  salvation  remaining.  Oh 
what  a  blessed  change  in  twenty -four  hours!  This  is  a  bless- 
ed morning.  How  trifling  is  learning,  fame,  every  thing,  to 
these  discoveries  of  Christ !  I  feel  willing  to  suffer  labor,  fa- 
tigue, shame,  contempt,  and  even  death  for  this  glorious  Re- 
deemer. O  give  me  this  life  of  communion  with  him,  and  J 
desire  no  more !  Never  did  I  before  make  this  aspiration  with 
half  so  much  solid  reality  of  desire.  Every  thing  appears 
like  filthy  trash  to  this.  All  the  Bible,  all  truth  opens,  and 
appears  solid,  weighty,  and  glorious.  Turn  which  way  I  will, 
light  shines  around  me, — on  every  contemplation — every  truth. 

0  Lord  give  me  faith  and  keep  me  humble  !  To  think  that 
after  so  many  and  so  great  sins  and  abuses  of  privileges,  he 
should  reveal  himself  to  me!  To  think  that  he  should  from 
eternity  ordain  me  to  everlasting  life!  Why  me?  Why  me? 

1  am  astonished.  I  am  sweetly  overwhelmed  and  swallow- 
ed up. 

The  state  of  my  mind,  the  rest  of  the  day  and  eveniiig, 
will  appear  from  the  short  record  which  I  made  next  morning. 

Friday  morning,  ISth,  Baskingridge.  Was  affected  yes- 
terday when  I  entered  the  house  of  God  at  Baskingridge,  and 
saw  the  crowded  seats,  and  solemn  countenances.  The  place 
was  awful,  for  God  was  there.  I  was  much  affected  in  prayer 
with  a  sense  of  Christ,  and  wept ; — was  enabled  to  plead  with 
him.     Mr.  Thompson  having  read  a  most  precious  hymn  of 

Vol.  I.  10 


74 


FIRST   RESIDENCE 


praise  to  Christ,  1  could  not  help  speaking  a  word  to  the  peo- 
ple before  they  sung  it,  praying  them  not  to  trifle  with  such 
precious  words  and  lose  such  a  heavenly  treasure.  In  every 
prayer  through  the  day  and  evening,  and  almost  in  every  in- 
dividual petition,  I  had  a  distinct  sense  that  God  was  too  holy 
to  suffer  such  polluted  creatures  to  approach  him  but  through 
the  blessed  High  Priest.  In  proportion  as  I  could  apprehend 
this  medium  I  was  delighted.  I  did  not  wish  to  go  to  God  in 
my  own  name.  I  durst  not  for  my  life  approach  directly  to 
immaculate  holiness.  How  can  it  be  deemed  a  privilege  to  be 
excused  from  using  this  medium,  and  to  go  naked  to  him  who 
is  a  consuming  fire?  While  a  hymn  was  sung,  expressive  of 
God's  hatred  of  sin,  discovered  in  casting  the  angels  out  of 
heaven,  Adam  out  of  Eden,  turning  this  world  into  a  vale  of 
tears,  myriads  into  hell,  and  (what  appeared  more  expressive) 
laying  his  wrath  on  his  beloved  Son,  I  had  an  awful  sense  of 
his  majest)''  and  holiness,  and  sin  appeared,  as  being  against 
such  a  God,  more  dreadful  than  ever.  I  never  felt  such  a 
calm,  solid,  strong  opposition  to  sin :  an  opposition  which  I 
could  trace  to  its  source,  being  able  to  tell  and  to  know  why  I 
was  opposed  to  sin,  viz.  because  it  was  against  such  a  holy 
God. 

In  the  evening,  while  hearing  divine  truth  preached  and 
sung,  I  saw  these  truths  (which  I  had  felt  through  the  day) 
to  be  real  and  certain.  I  saw  that  it  was  one  thing  to  talk, 
and  another  to  feel — saw  that  certain  truths  which  I  had  often 
expressed,  were  far  different  from  wliat  I  had  conceived  them 
to  be,  and  other  great  truths  that  were  uttered  by  others  I  per- 
ceived would  be  greater  than  either  they  or  I  then  conceived, 
if  fully  realized.  I  saw  that  it  was  a  different  thing  to  ap- 
proach God  from  what  I  had  formerly  imagined.  When 
joining  in  prayer  with  Mr.  Armstrong,  my  mind  was  more 
deeply  fixed  throughout  than  perhaps  ever  before  when  join- 
ing in  prayer  with  another.  In  exhortation  I  was  enabled  to 
give  such  a  description  of  the  great  and  dreadful,  the  holy 
and  just  Majesty  of  heaven,  as  induced  one  minister  to  call 
in  question  his  religion,  another  man  to  doubt,  who  had  not 


AT  NEWARK.  75 

had  a  doubt  in  seven  years,  and  another  minister  to  say,  "  O 
'tis  too  much.  These  things  were  designed  only  for  angels." 
I  was  enabled  also  to  give  such  a  view  of  the  great  High 
Priest  as  was  said  to  be  refreshing  to  christians.  I  mention 
this  only  as  an  evidence  of  the  state  of  my  mind.  1  feel  this 
morning  that  this  sense  of  God  and  Christ  would  always  keep 
down  pride,  passion,  selfishness,  and  is  the  most  powerful  prin- 
ciple against  all  sin.  If  this  is  faith,  let  me  never  again  com- 
plain that  faith  will  not  fortify  the  heart  against  sin.  It  has 
been  because  faith  was  too  weak  that  it  has  not  more  pre- 
vailed. If  it  is  this  to  be  united  to  Christ,  then  life  flows  from 
such  union,  and  he  is  indeed  the  vine  to  the  branches.  While 
opposing  a  general  meeting  of  the  congregations,  my  heart 
wept  with  love  to  Christ,  when  the  question  arose  whether  I 
was  opposing  his  beloved  interest;  and  I  clearly  saw  that  I 
would  sacrifice  character,  and  every  thing  to  serve  him. 
While  on  my  way  to  Lamington  I  had  some  sweet  medita- 
tions on  these  delightful  subjects ;  and  one  idea  appeared  so 
real  and  important  that  I  stopped  on  the  road  to  note  it  down 
with  my  pencil.  It  was  this, — that  we  can  have  no  view  of 
the  priesthood  of  Christ,  without  an  accompanying  view  of 
the  holiness  of  God. 

Lamington.)  two  o^clock  P.  M.  These  views  which  I  have 
had  are  certainly  opposed  to  pride  and  every  sin,  and  are  the 
only  means  of  conquering  sin.  For  two  days  past  I  have 
scarcely  had  a  single  thought  for  my  own  character,  or  any 
private  interest.  Formerly,  when  with  my  brethren,  I  used  to 
study  the  character  which  I  should  support.  But  scarcely  a 
single  thought  of  the  kind  has  intruded  for  two  days.  My 
mind  has  been  employed  in  thinking,  not  what  I  am,  or  am 
to  be  in  the  eyes  of  men,  but  what  Christ  is.  How  different 
is  religion  from  nature !  How  different  is  the  sanctified  from 
the  unsanctified  heart  in  every  feeling,  view,  motive,  and  mo- 
tion! May  I  this  day  speak  for  God, — with  proper  views  of 
Christ, — and  with  great  success  !     O  for  a  day  of  glory ! 

Nine  o'clock  P.  M.  In  a  certain  part  of  the  public  service 
Satan  or  my  own  wicked  heart  suggested  that  one  of  my 


76  FIRST  RESIDENCE 

brethren  would  be  more  acceptable  to  the  people  than  myself. 
At  once  the  feeling  prevailed,  "  And  is  it  not  enough  for  you 
to  share  the  love  of  the  Redeemer  without  the  applause  of 
men  ?  Could  such  a  one  as  you  expect  more  ?"  It  is,  it  is 
enough.  I  am  satisfied :  let  others  take  the  applause.  Have 
felt  to-day  that  I  might  indeed  be  easily  saved,  and  that  Christ 
is  sufficient  for  the  whole  world.  In  reviewing  my  late  hu- 
miliations and  distresses,  and  glooms  and  doubts,  and  cries  for 
mercy,  and  the  consequent  rehef  and  joy,  I  am  more  sensible 
that  to  humble  ourselves  before  the  Lord  is  the  only  way  to  be 
lifted  up.  And  when  in  future  days  I  shall  find  my  heart 
broken  at  God's  feet,  let  me  remember  this,  and  patiently  wait 
his  time  of  deliverance. 

Sahhath  morning,  Connecticut  Farms.  The  past  week  I 
have  thought  with  myself — How  much  calmer,  sv^^eeter, 
brighter,  happier,  to  live  thus,  to  enjoy  the  blessed  High  Priest, 
a  clear  conscience,  and  the  assurance  of  a  happy  immortality, 
than  to  sink  into  sin,  pride,  self-seeking,  woiidly-mindedness, 
and  be  filled  with  darkness  and  shaken  with  tempests.  Why 
should  I  then  return  to  folly  ?  O  let  it  not  be.  My  desires 
for  a  new  life  are  calm,  solid,  and  strong.  I  desire  to  be  made, 
through  every  future  day,  very  diflferent  from  what  I  ever  have 
been  ;  and  to  be  enabled  to  look  back  upon  this  era  as  the  pe- 
riod when,  (if  I  did  not  begin  to  see,)  I  was,  by  a  second 
touch  of  Christ,  like  the  men  of  Bethsaida,  (Mark,  viii.  22, 
25,)  brought  to  more  distinct  vision.  I  am  not  my  own  but 
his  who  brought  me  from  the  pit,  and  I  have  a  desire  to  do 
something  for  this  divine  friend,  something  to  please  and  honor 
a  holy  God, — and  to  be  wholly  devoted.  I  now  see  that  God 
could  easily  bring  me  to  be  willing  to  suffer  reproach  and  mi- 
sery, and  even  death,  from  a  direct  and  mere  love  of  him  and 
his  Son.  I  think  I  certainly  feel  something  of  this  temper. 
O  how  much  better  to  renounce  the  idea  of  being  great,  and 
respected  as  a  man  of  learning  or  influence,  and  become  an 
humble  christian,  let  it  cost  pride  as  many  grinding  pains  as 
it  may,  and  retain  a  clear  conscience,  an  humble  confident 
hope,  the  bright  shinings  of  a  Father's  countenance,  and  be  a 


AT    NEWARK.  J 

tender,  meek,  modest,  afTectionate,  humble  saint,  dead  to  the 
world,  dead  to  the  opinions  of  men,  (any  further  than  duty- 
binds  us  to  respect  their  opinions,)  and  thus  avoid  the  conflicts 
of  pride,  and  the  darkness,  falls  and  guilt  which  pride  occa- 
sions. I  certainly  would  rather  be  thus,  retired  from  the  world, 
unknowing  and  unknown,  possessing  only  the  excellency  of 
modest  and  solid  worth,  and  enjoying  God  and  Christ  and 
heaven  in  the  house  of  my  pilgrimage,  than  to  be  the  most 
celebrated  divine  on  earth.  Let  me  in  my  dress,  house,  stu- 
dies, preaching,  company,  address,  intercourse  with  men,  jour- 
nies, — and  every  thing,  take  and  hold  this  ground  so  crossing 
to  pride,  but  so  congenial  with  a  spiritual  mind.  I  can  now 
contemplate  God  and  Christ  with  tearful  tenderness,  and  can 
draw  from  them  all  my  arguments  for  repentance,  for  active 
service,  for  suffering,  and  for  holy  living.  I  can  contemplate 
them  and  their  love  without  pride.  To  enjoy  them  and  hope 
for  salvation,  does  not  lift  me  up  as  once  it  did.  My  heart  is 
afraid  of  pride  and  presumption,  and  is  jealous  and  cautious 
lest  something  should  awake,  and  grieve  away  my  Beloved, 
and  trembles  at  the  presumption  of  speaking  one  word  to  God, 
but  sensibly  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  or  even  of  thinking  of  him, 
but  as  being  brought  near  by  the  blood  of  his  Son.  Yet  per- 
haps it  is  impossible  to  have  a  full  and  immediate  sense  of  this 
in  every  petition  and  thought  of  God.  Perhaps,  preserving  a 
general  sense  that  he  is  reconciled  by  his  Son,  I  may  accepta- 
bly present  petitions  to  him,  as  a  reconciled  Father,  without 
always  having  a  direct  view  of  the  priesthood  of  Christ. 

My  present  views  have  marshalled  before  me  such  an  im- 
mensity of  objects  to  pray  for  and  to  thank  for,  that  in  prayer 
this  morning,  I  rapidly  passed  through  a  great  variety  of  mat- 
ter, not  knowing  which  to  take  first,  nor  when  to  stop. 

Formerly  I  had  much  exertion  to  make  to  brace  myself 
with  resolution  against  the  fear  of  man.  But  during  a  con- 
siderable part  of  the  last  week,  I  had  no  more  thought  of 
guarding  against  this  than  against  murder;  the  consideration - 
of  human  opinions  being  wholly  out  of  mind,  and  swallowed 
up  in  view  of  God  and  Christ. 


78  FIRST    RESIDENCE 

O  what  wonders  are  these!  And  has  God  indeed  chosen 
me  from  eternity?  Has  he  redeemed  me  by  the  blood  of 
Christ, — called  and  sanctified  me  by  the  Holy  Ghost, — put 
me  into  the  ministry, — and  so  wonderfully  blessed  me  therein? 

0  his  affecting  faithfulness,  that  without  any  seeking,  contri- 
vance, or  wisdom  of  my  own,  he  should  take  care  of  my  sal- 
vation, during  all  my  forgetfulness  of  myself  and  him !  And 
is  the  creature,  who,  under  all  this  mercy,  has  so  much  sin- 
ned,— is  he  pardoned?  Are  my  crimson  stains  become  white 
as  snow?  Am  I  indeed  as  a  child  ?  May  I  be  assured  of  being 
delivered  from  those  devices  of  Satan  and  my  own  heart 
which  I  feared  would  prove  my  ruin'^  Am  I  to  conquer,  and 
to  live  near  to  God  ?  To  live  a  serene  life  after  all  my  distress 
and  fears  ?  After  all  my  guilt,  to  die  a  happy  death  ?  and  to 
reign  on  an  eternal  throne  ?  O,  grace,  grace,  grace !  O,  the 
ocean  without  a  bottom  or  a  shore  !  Now  Lord  I  am  wholly 
thine !  Riches,  character,  the  world,  are  dead.  This  is  no 
passion,  but  a  solid  reality  of  feeling.  No  tender  tumult, — all 
is  calm, — more  hke  clear  vision,  than  an  elevation  of  animal 
affections.  I  see  it  all  in  a  holy  God,  and  a  holy  all-sufficient 
High  Priest.  I  pant  after  more  knowledge  of  them  ;  and  if  I 
know  any  thing  about  humihty,  I  am  deeply  humble  while 

1  view  these  things, — while  I  view  them  with  scarce  a  doubt 
of  my  adoption.  In  former  times,  when  my  hope  was  strong, 
it  would  arise  from  tender  meltings  of  soul ;  now  from  a  direct 
view  of  a  holy  God,  and  the  blessed  High  Priest,  who  brings 
me  near  to  him,  and  it  is  now  therefore  a  much  more  solid 
thing.  Formerly  ray  hope  made  me  think  myself  more  than 
others ;  this  makes  me  forget  all  such  comparisons, — makes 
me  appear  a  bare  naked  nothing  before  God,  and  to  wonder 
why  he  should  set  his  love  on  me.  And  when  I  think  of 
others,  it  is  only  with  desire  that  they  may  share  with  me  in 
these  views  and  blessings.  These  views  bring  me  to  abhor 
and  dread  the  least  secret  movement  of  sin,— to  watch  against  it, 
and  long  for  more  views  of  God,  and  of  the  great  mystery  of  re- 
demption,— to  be  tremblingly  fearful  of  God's  withdrawment. 
They  render  more  affecting  all  the  common  mercies  of  my 


AT    NEWARK.  79 

life,  and  bring  me  to  see  that  the  government  is,  and  ought 
to  be,  the  Lord's.     The  question  of  having  another  to  govern 
or  decide,  is  dead  ;  and  the  revival  of  it  would  seem  strange. 
The  more  guilty  I  feel,  the  happier  I  am ;  for  without  a  sense 
of  guilt,  I  cannot  relish  the  precious  High  Priest.     And  I  can 
easily  conceive  that  a  sense  of  guilt  will  be  felt  through  eter- 
nity among  the  redeemed.     When  I  ask,  Do  I  possess  a  right 
idea  of  the  holiness  of  God  and  Christ  ?  I  can  decide  the  ques- 
tion thus :  By  holiness  it  is  evident  I  mean  what  is  opposite 
to  my  sin  ;  for  when  I  lose  a  sweet  sense  of  the  propriety  of  a 
holy  High  Priest,  I  revive  it  by  looking  at  my  pollution,  and 
seeing  the  necessity  of  a  High  Priest  of  an  opposite  character  ; 
and  then  the  sense  of  his  hoUness  becomes  sweet,  and  at  the 
same  time,  I  approve  and  reverence  the  holiness  of  God  the 
Father.     I  have  had  an  awful  sense  of  this  hohness,   and 
tremble  at  the  thought  of  approaching  him,  except  through 
the  mediation  of  Jesus.     When  following  others  in  prayer,  or 
when  looking  forward  to  pubhc  worship,  I  have  trembled  at 
the  thought  of  making  one  petition,  or  doing  any  thing,  but 
in  the  name  of  a  mediator.     My  present  views  produce  grati- 
tude, whichever  way  I  look,  wonder,  astonishment, — a  sense 
of  bankruptcy, — of  obligation  to  live  and  to  die  for  Christ, — 
joy,  trust,  confidence  in  his  veracity  and  all  sufficiency  for  a 
whole  world.     They  bring  my  lost  time  before  me, — show  me 
that  there  is  abundance  to  do  and  to  think  of, — and  the  im- 
portance of  being  up  and  doing.     They  produce  a  tender  de- 
sire that  all  my  friends  may  see  and  enjoy  this  glory  and  ho- 
nor, this  God  and  Christ.     They  produce  a  living  principle, 
strongly  counteracting  pride  and  every  sin;  and  I  clearly  per- 
ceive that  if  this  principle  should  become  strong  enough,  it 
would  drive  all  sin  from  my  heart,  and  make  me  holy  as  God 
is  holy.    I  have  not  enough  preached  Jesus ;  and  when  I  have 
preached  him,  it  was  not  enough  in  the  simplicity  of  the  gos- 
pel.    I  have  had  too  much  the  awkward  formality  of  system, 
and  have  not  presented  him  precisely  in  the  right  aspects.- 
Were  I  now  to  preach  any  sermon  that  I  possess,  I  should 
drop  many  of  the  expressions,  and  should  speak  of  Christ  in 


80  FIRST    RESIDENCE 

words  more  resembling  the  life.  I  ought  to  have  taken  the 
phrases  and  aspects  of  this  great  mystery  more  directly  from 
the  Bible,  and  made  less  use  of  systematic  phrases.  Nothing 
will  crucify  the  world  but  the  cross  of  Christ.  During  the 
past  week  I  felt  no  agony  of  desire  for  the  success  of  my  mi- 
nistrations, being  more  engrossed  with  the  thought  of  pleasing 
God  than  even  of  converting  sinners.  Feeling  that  the  cause 
was  God's, — that  he  had  power  with  a  word  to  bring  the  pros- 
perity of  Zion  at  any  time,  I  calmly  left  it  with  him.  So  my 
mind  was  moulded. 

I  am  not  without  hope  that  the  past  week  will  form  a  new 
era  in  my  life.  Perhaps  I  have  explored  the  mazes  of  sin,  and 
the  depths  of  Satan,  long  enough  to  fit  me  for  the  ministry; 
(for  it  is  with  reference  to  the  people  as  much  as  to  themselves, 
that  God  regulates  the  experience  of  his  ministers,)  and  now 
he  may  design  to  lead  me  to  an  exquisite  rehsh  and  a  deep 
understanding  of  the  great  Redeemer,  and  to  display  more 
fully  his  cross  for  the  crucifixion  of  sinners,  and  the  relief  of 
the  broken  hearted.  He  is  now  bringing  me  out  of  long  per- 
plexity in  regard  to  temporals ;  and  perhaps  I  may  be  now 
passing  from  the  state  of  B,  which  (as  described  by  John 
Newton)  is  marked  with  conflict,  into  the  state  of  C,  which  is 
distinguished  for  happy  contemplation.  But  let  me  not  put  off 
my  armor  as  though  the  warfare  were  accomplished. 

Am  now  going  to  the  house  of  God,  desirous  to  pray,  to 
sing,  to  preach  aright,  and  with  success,  and  to  enjoy  the  pre- 
sence of  God.  All  depends  on  him.  I  have  dwelt  particu- 
larly on  these  several  petitions,  not  content  with  asking  gene- 
rally for  the  divine  assistance.  May  divine  influences  descend 
this  day  all  around  and  through  the  christian  world.  No 
blessing  would  be  so  sweet  to  me  as  this. 

Noon.  A  calm,  sweet,  humble  frame  through  all  the  exer- 
cises,— melting  now  and  then  when  speaking  of  Jesus, — ac- 
companied with  a  still  but  strong  desire  that  success  might  at- 
tend the  word.  In  the  last  prayer,  I  owned  to  the  Lord  that 
the  cause  was  his,  not  mine;  that  he  loved  it  better  than  1 
did ;  that  the  souls  of  men  were  his ;  that  the  whole  case  was 


AT    NEWARK.  81 

known  to  him;  that  he  saw  what  was  to  be  done;  that  all 
depended  on  him:  and  while  I  said,  O  that  a  blessing  might 
attend  the  word,  I  adored  his  sovereignty,  and  left  the  matter 
with  him,  saying,  "  Not  my  will  but  thine  be  done."  In  pro- 
nouncing the  blessing,  I  wished  the  rich  blessings  of  the  Fa- 
ther, Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  might  come  upon  the  people. 

Night.  Felt  some  effects  of  exhaustion :  less  sensible  en- 
joyment, and  less  fixedness  of  thought, — but  an  increasing  de- 
sire to  do  good,  as  I  proceeded  in  the  sermon.  Before  the 
blessing  I  again  addressed  the  people. 

Wednesday,  March  23d.  Monday  and  Tuesday  I  visited 
my  people;  took  much  pleasure  in  recommending  a  holy  God, 
and  a  blessed  High  Priest.  Felt  the  effects  of  last  week's 
views.  Have  seen  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  being  moved 
to  duty  by  the  fear  of  God  and  the  love  of  Christ.  Received 
a  letter  from  a  christian  brother,  admonishing  me,  with  great 
plainness,  to  beware  of  the  dangers  arising  from  my  new  si- 
tuation. At  another  time.  I  might  have  felt  my  pride  wound- 
ed ;  but  my  heart  was  affected  with  gratitude  for  his  faithful 
friendship. 

I  am  deeply  sensible  that  during  all  my  ministry  I  have 
been  under  the  strong  power  of  unbelief.  I  have  not  seen  the 
danger,  and  no  wonder  that  I  have  not  feared  it  nor  prayed 
against  it. 

In  my  late  attempts  to  gain  more  full  views  of  the  mystery 
of  redemption,  I  have  been  convinced  that  the  Jewish  types 
were  designed,  not  only  to  instruct  that  nation,  but  to  teach 
christians  also ;  being  well  adapted  to  the  weakness  of  our  ap- 
prehensions now.  As  for  instance  the  entrance  of  the  High 
Priest  into  the  presence  of  the  Shekinah  by  blood  and  sacri- 
fice, and  with  so  much  awe  and  caution,  helps  our  concep- 
tions of  the  manner  in  which  our  great  High  Priest  brings  us 
near  to  God  by  the  sacrifice  of  himself.  The  same  of  the  in 
tercession  of  the  High  Priest  for  the  people, — the  scape  goat, 

&.C. 

Vol.  I.  11 


82  FIRST   RESIDENCE 

How  long  the  peculiar  state  of  mind  described  in 
several  preceding  paragraphs  continued,  does  not 
appear,  as  the  record  of  his  exercises  is  interrupted 
from  March  till  September;  though  it  is  evident 
that,  at  the  latter  period,  he  had  lost  in  some  degree 
that  deep  and  overwhelming  sense  of  divine  things 
by  which  his  spirit  had  sometimes  seemed  well  nigh 
entranced.  Under  date  of  March  3,  1804,  he 
writes  thus : 

Was  struck  this  morning  in  reading  Phil.  ii.  14,  15.     "  Do 
all  things  without  murmurings  and  disputings :  that  ye  may- 
be blameless  and  harmless,  the  sons  of  God  without  rebuke, 
in  the  midst  of  a  crooked  and  perverse  nation,  among  whom 
ye  shine  as  lights  in  the  world."     In  christian  meekness  and 
wisdom,  what  a  dignity  !     Here  is  no  carrying  things  by  loud 
and  pertinacious  disputings, — no  pert  and  loquacious  attempts 
to  correct  every  word  that  shall  drop  from  others,  not  agreeing 
precisely  with  one's  own  mind.     Among  the  crooked  and  per- 
verse we  must  prevail  and  make  our  influence  felt  by  the  meek- 
ness of  wisdom, — by  a  prudent  deportment  and  temperate 
counsels,  rather  than  attempt  to  storm,  and  carry  the  fortress 
with  the  strength  of  words.     Here  is  a  dignity  and  prudence, 
in  opposition  to  rendering  one's  self  common  ;  a  dignity  which 
I  have  too  much  reputed  hypocrisy,  and  selfish  temporizing. 
But  this  wisdom  I  much  want.     Murmurings  too  are  to  be 
avoided  in  all  cases :  murmurings  at  want  of  success  in  my 
ministry,  murmurings  at  general  wickedness, — murmurings 
at  unreasonable  men, — murmurings  at  want  of  support, — 
murmurings  at  the  trials  of  life, — murmurings  of  every  kind. 
March  5th.  How  comes  it  to  pass  that  some  worldly  men 
preserve  a  character  with  fewer  blots,  are  more  generous,  more 
socially  sweet,  &c.  than  many  christians?     Without  consi- 
dering the  difference  in  natural  tempers,  I  give  this  reason  :  in 
some  cases,  pride  being  the  strongest  passion,  and  more  easily 
influencing  the  other  corruptions  than  grace,  as  being  more 


AT    NEWARK.  ^ 

congenial  with  them,  can  command  the  field  with  less  conflict 
than  grace  can  in  other  men  ;  and  being  always  in  exercise, 
(whereas  grace  is  not)  preserves  the  man  from  indecent  things 
more  steadily  than  grace.  And  this  principle  when  it  has  ta- 
ken the  government,  is  much  more  powerful  than  in  the 
christian,  who,  being  habitually  engaged  to  weaken  it,  feels 
less  its  aid  when  grace  is  absent.  Add  to  this,  that  Satan 
does  not  make  such  violent  onsets  upon  one  who  is  not  resist- 
ing his  dominion.  A  predominant  corruption  controls  the 
whole  man  without  opposition  ;  whereas  grace  never  controls 
the  whole  heart  and  is  opposed.  Some  predominant  passion 
which  is  congenial  to  the  whole  soul,  and  which  controls  the 
whole  man,  and  that  uniformly,  may  produce  greater  and 
more  uniform  visible  effects  than  grace  commonly  does. 
Thus  the  unbelieving  Jews  have  shown  more  unconquerable 
fortitude  under  persecution  and  contempt,  and  more  unvaried 
adherence  to  their  religion,  than  most  christians.  But  this 
sentiment  does  not  weaken  the  necessity  of  sanctification  and 
good  works. 

April  5th,  iSabbalh  Qnorning.  Yes,  I  now  am  convinced 
and  assuredly  know  that  the  only  way  to  be  happy  is  to  keep 
the  mind  independent  of  all  worldly  things,  and  to  derive  our 
happiness  from  setting  the  Lord  always  before  us,  receiving 
him  for  our  portion,  trusting  in  his  fatherly  love  and  protec- 
tion, and  looking  on  all  the  dreams  of  this  life  as  about  to  dis- 
solve in  the  light  of  eternity,  when  we  awake  in  his  likeness. 
The  moment  we  come  down  upon  earth  to  take  our  comfort 
here,  we  find  our  hearts  the  mark  of  all  those  shafts  that  are 
flying  thick  in  this  region  of  care,  disappointment,  sin,  and 
sorrow.  Then  we  are  restless  and  pant  after  retirement.  But 
why?  Because  the  groves  are  stiller  than  our  breasts,  and  we 
dream  that  our  hearts  would  be  as  still  if  we  were  there.  But 
alas,  whether  in  grove  or  city,  while  turbulent  passions  dis- 
turb the  breast,  there  is  equal  restlessness.  And  in  grove  or 
city  there  is  equal  rest  while  passion  sleeps.  Nothing  can  still  ■ 
and  subdue  the  passions  but  the  keeping  of  the  heart  in  hea- 
ven.    This  is  the  great  secret  of  happiness.     "  Their  sorrows 


84  FIRST    RESfDENCE 

are  multiplied  who  seek  another  God."  Ah,  here  is  the  cause  of 
all  my  misery  !  I  have  forsaken  the  fountain  of  living  waters, 
for  broken  cisterns.  When  I  can  be  more  independent  of  the 
opinions  of  men, — can  have  my  pride,  envy,  anger,  and  ava- 
rice subdued  by  heavenly  mindedness, — can  again  soothe  the 
sorrows  of  Ufe^  as  I  once  used  to  do,  by  looking  on  the  near 
approach  of  eternity, — then,  and  not  till  then,  I  shall  be  at 
rest.  Return  unto  thy  rest,  O  my  soul !  Unbelief  and  guilt 
have  prevented  me  from  returning.  I  have  got  disused  to 
view  God  with  filial  and  delightful  confidence,  nourished  by 
intimate  communion  with  him,  and  therefore  it  is  that  I  have 
become  in  so  great  a  degree  a  stranger  to  peace.  Tain  world 
be  gone !  Thou  art  the  enemy  of  my  peace.  Passion,  be 
still.  Let  me  again  fly  to  the  bosom  of  my  God  !  "  There 
would  I  fix  my  last  abode,  and  drown  the  sorrows  of  my 
soul." 

June  25th.  A  day  for  special  devotion.  I  am  now  convinc- 
ed that  the  occasion  of  my  being  unable  to  realize  divine 
things,  of  the  loss  of  the  serenity  and  self-enjoyment  which  I 
formerly  possessed,  of  the  restlessness  that  cannot  find  a  home, 
— of  an  incapacity  to  resist  the  distracting  influence  of  the 
world,  and  to  bear  up  calmly  against  its  frowns, — is  the  ne- 
glect of  my  closet,  and  the  discontinuance  of  days  of  special 
devotion.  It  is  impossible  for  the  soul  to  retain  a  realizing  and 
soothing  sense  of  eternal  things,  unless  that  sense  is  renewed 
and  deeply  impressed  in  secret  meditation  and  devotion.  The 
mind,  unless  settled  in  this  way,  will  be  too  much  distracted 
in  public  devotion,  and  in  religious  conversation,  to  obtain  this 
sense,  to  such  a  degree  as  will  fortify  and  support  it.  All  my 
restlessness  and  irregular  feelings  are  imputable,  in  a  great 
measure,  to  this  cause.  The  only  cure  must  be  sought  in  the 
renewal  of  secret  devotion,  and  in  days  of  special  prayer  and 
meditation.  What  contentment,  submission,  composure,  and 
peace,  would  this  enable  me  to  carry  into  all  the  scenes  of  duty 
and  care.  I  have  now  got  a  home.  Last  evening,  (being  the 
first  Sabbath  evening  that  we  have  been  alone  since  we  moved 
into  this  house,)  in  walking  in  my  garden,  I  desired  to  conse- 


AT   NEWARK.  85 

crate  the  alley  in  which  I  walked  to  divine  meditation,  and 
prayed  and  hoped  that  it  might  prove  more  delightful  than 
my  former  walks  at  New-Hartford,  the  loss  of  which  I  have 
so  much  regretted.  O  God,  may  this  new  habitation  be  the 
scene  of  peace  and  of  heavenly  communion  for  years  to  come ! 
Here,  in  retirement  from  the  world,  may  we  cultivate  the 
sweets  of  domestic  enjoyment,  and  the  calm  delights  of  reli- 
gion, while  we  enjoy  the  innocent  amusements  of  the  garden, 
and  contemplate  the  beauty  of  thy  works  !  May  we  now  be- 
gin to  see  good  days  in  proportion  to  the  days  in  which  we 
have  been  afflicted  !  A  more  retired  state  of  reflection  I  am 
convinced  is  necessary,  not  only  to  devotion,  to  domestic  and 
self  enjoyment,  but  to  furnish  me  with  such  views  and  impres- 
sions of  divine  truth  as  will  give  interest  to  my  public  mini- 
strations, sanctity  to  my  character,  and  savoriness  to  my  con- 
versation among  my  people. 

In  further  reviewing  my  memoirs,  (in  which  I  was  again 
interrupted  by  company,)  I  perceived  that  I  formerly  had  a 
more  exquisite  sense  of  sin  than  I  now  possess,  though  I  have 
now  equal,  and  even  increased  cause  of  mourning  and  abase- 
ment. 

At  night. — I  find  the  effects  of  the  exercises  of  this  day  are 
a  more  tender  frame  of  mind  towards  my  feflow  men,  more 
feeling,  freedom,  and  sweetness  in  prayer,  and  more  compla- 
cency, confidence,  and  readiness  in  contemplating  God,  And 
art  thou  returning  to  my  soul  and  restoring  my  peace,  thou 
God  of  faithfulness  and  abounding  mercy  1  When  forsaken 
by  every  other  lover,  when  driven  from  every  other  refuge, 
when  unable  to  find  rest  for  the  sole  of  my  foot  in  the  wide 
creation,  thou  art  my  last  resort :  thy  faithful  bosom  still  offers 
me  sweet  repose.  Let  the  world  be  gone.  Let  me  but  possess 
thee,  my  faithful  Redeemer ;  let  me  but  hear  thy  lips  invite 
me  home,  and  tell  me  I  am  thine,  and  I  have  enough. 

Sabbath  morning,  July  Ist.  I  have  been  this  week  writ- 
ing upon  the  atonement.  Regardless  of  ornaments  of  style,  - 
I  have  been  feasting  upon  the  richest  truth.  The  effect  is, 
not  only  more  ease  and  force  in  my  composition,  and  more 


86  FIRST    RESIDENCE 

rapidity  in  the  execution,  but  a  sweet  and  easy  state  of  mind, 
tliat  I  have  not  enjoyed  for  a  considerable  period.  Cares  sit 
light  upon  me,  the  world  goes  easy  with  me,  I  can  receive  my 
friends,  and  perform  parochial  duty,  without  anxiety.  I  can 
take  my  own  natural  course  without  constraint,  a  circumstance 
essential  to  my  peace  and  usefulness,  and  acceptableness.  I 
am  deeply  convinced,  that  would  I  find  my  life  and  ministra- 
tions pleasant  to  myself,  and  most  useful  and  acceptable  to 
the  people,  especially  if  I  would  live  upon  God  and  divine 
truth,  I  must  take  my  own  natural  course  in  preaching,  and 
keep  my  mind  fixed  on  truth  rather  than  style,  and  support  a 
more  grave  and  dignified  independence  of  the  opinions  of 
men. 

July  2Uh.  I  have  been  thinking  lately  that  there  must  be 
some  essential  defect  in  my  prayers,  or  they  would  procure  for 
me  more  strength  against  sin.  It  has  occurred  to  me  that  I 
have  not  called  on  the  name  of  Jesus.  Always  making  ap- 
plication to  the  invisible  God,  I  have  too  much  left  a  Media- 
tor out  of  my  account,  as  the  Jews  did.  Had  I  gone  directly 
to  Jesus,  as  those  did  whom  he  healed  in  the  days  of  his  flesh, 
I  might  at  least  have  touched  the  hem  of  his  garment,  and 
been  made  whole.  For  a  week  past  I  have  made  the  expe- 
riment, and  have  almost  entirely  prayed  to  the  Mediatorial 
King ;  and  by  some  means  or  other  my  temptations  and  cor- 
ruptions have  been  more  restrained  than  for  a  long  time  pre- 
vious. 

In  walking  my  garden  this  evening,  I  had  one  of  those  im- 
pressions which  seem  to  be  made  by  a  sight  of  demonstrable 
truth.  The  truth  discovered  was  this:  In  examining  my 
state,  I  ought  not  so  much  to  have  dwelt  on  a  review  of  colla- 
teral circumstances,  as  a  careful  review  of  the  motives  which 
influenced  me  in  different  scenes  of  my  hfe ;  and  my  anxiety 
for  the  present  ought  to  be,  not  so  much  whether  I  am  new- 
born,— or  if  not,  how  I  shall  become  new-born,  as  to  take  care 
that  in  all  my  conduct  I  do  right  from  right  motives,  restrain- 
ing every  sinful  passion,  and  conscientiously  performing  every 
known  duty.     I  have  been  setting  up  a  change  as  a  sort  of 


AT    NEWARK.  87 

abstract  object  of  inquiry  and  pursuit,  rather  than  taking  care 
for  the  present  to  preserve,  in  small  as  well  as  in  great  mat- 
ters, purity  of  heart  and  life.  I  must  be  more  watchful  and 
conscientious  in  innumerable  small  matters,  and  be,  in  all  my 
feelings  and  conduct,  under  the  influence  of  right  motives. 
This  is  the  only  anxiety  I  ought  to  have  for  my  personal  cha- 
racter or  prospects.  If  I  can  attain  to  right  motives  in  all  my 
feelings  and  behavior,  I  need  be  anxious  about  no  other  change. 
Let  this  then  be  the  simple  and  direct  object  of  my  care, 

January  6th,  1805.  This  day  I  have  attained  to  one-half 
of  three  score  years  and  ten.  To  this  hour  I  have  always 
been  considering  my  life  before  rae,  and  have  been  looking 
forward  to  happiness  and  usefulness,  little  of  which  I  have 
hitherto  found.  But  now  I  have  awoke  from  my  dream,  and 
find,  to  my  surprise,  that  before  I  was  aware,  the  greatest  part 
of  my  life  has  probably  passed  ;  certainly  the  greatest  part  of 
the  enjoyment  of  life.  Fifteen  years  more,  (if  I  Uve  to  see 
them,)  and  I  am  fifty,  and  must  probably  begin  to  feel  the 
decays  and  infirmities  of  age.  If  I  would  find  my  hfe,  I  must 
look  back  rather  than  forward.  I  have  been  often  warned 
that  I  should  be  striving  to  overtake  life  until  I  should  sud- 
denly wake  up,  and  find  I  had  got  past  it.  But  I  never  be- 
lieved it  till  I  now  find  it  true.  What  a  vapor  is  our  present 
existence !  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity  !  It  is  high  time 
for  me  to  gird  up  my  loins  and  begin  to  live  to  some  good  pur- 
pose. It  is  too  late  for  rae  to  spend  my  time  in  preparing  ac- 
commodations to  live  here ;  it  is  time  for  me  to  be  preparing 
to  depart  to  the  eternal  world. 

In  February  of  this  year,  Mr.  Griffin  received 
a  call  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  first  Reformed 
Dutch  church  in  Albany.  He  seems  to  have  been 
not  a  little  embarrassed  in  respect  to  the  manner  in 
which  he  should  dispose  of  it,  and  not  only  earnestly 
sought  divine  guidance,  but  asked  the  advice  of  se-, 
veral  of  his  most  judicious  brethren  in  the  ministry. 
The  result  was,  that  after  a  short  time  he  deter- 


88  FIRST    RESIDENCE 

mined  to  decline  the  call;  a  circumstance  which 
seems  to  have  been  gratefully  appreciated  by  his 
people,  and  to  have  entrenched  him  more  strongly 
than  ever  in  their  affections. 

April  7th.  Another  monument  to  the  divine  faithfulness  I 
have  to  erect.  Some  weeks  ago  I  was  desired  to  visit  a  wretch- 
ed man  who  was  declining  in  a  consumption,  and  who  after 
having  for  several  years  persecuted  his  wife  and  daughter  for 
their  religion,  was  now  bitterly  opposed  to  serious  conversation, 
and  to  the  very  sight  of  a  christian.  I  went  to  see  him.  He 
treated  me  with  greater  outrage  and  spite  than  I  ever  received 
in  the  discharge  of  my  ministerial  duty.  Though  I  approach- 
ed him  with  all  possible  tenderness,  he  spurned  me  from  him, 
absolutely  refused  to  receive  instruction  from  one  whom  he 
did  not  love  or  respect ;  and  reproached  me  with  being  an  in- 
jury to  the  town.  I  left  him  with  a  full  conviciion  that  he 
had  committed  the  unpardonable  sin  by  knowingly  persecu- 
ting Christ  in  the  person  of  his  wife  and  daughter;  and  view- 
ing him  as  a  person  given  over  of  God,  I  determined  to  visit 
him  no  more.  I  mentioned  this  determination  to  one  of  my 
brethren  in  the  ministry,  who  disapproved  of  it,  and  advised 
me  to  persevere  in  labors  with  him.  I  accordingly  have  visit- 
ed him  from  time  to  time ;  and  this  morning  I  found  him  in 
a  frame  of  mind  which  induced  a  comfortable  hope  that  he 
had  obtained  mercy  of  the  Lord.  He  expressed  regret  for  his 
former  treatment  of  me,  and  seems  desirous  to  have  me  near 
him.  The  town  which  was  filled  with  his  outrage  against 
me,  and  recognized  him  as  conspicuous  among  the  party  op- 
posed to  the  gospel  which  1  preached,  now  sees  the  regard  he 
has  for  me,  and  for  the  truth  I  delivered  to  him,  as  the  ac- 
knowledged means  of  his  salvation.  I  feel  myself  greatly 
honored  and  supported  in  view  of  the  whole  town,  while  I  am 
reproved  for  meditating  an  abandonment  of  a  poor  dying  sin- 
ner. Let  me  be  encouraged  to  put  my  life  in  my  hands,  and 
look  to  God  for  all  needful  support  in  his  blessed  work. 


AT    NEWARK.  89^' 

During  the  session  of  the  General  Assembly  of 
the  Presbyterian  church  in  May  of  this  year,  Mr. 
Griffin  preached  the  annual  Missionary  sermon. 
His  subject,  which  was  "  the  kingdom  of  Christ," 
he  illustrated  and  enforced  with  great  beauty  and 
power.  The  discourse  has  passed  through  several 
editions,  and  may  justly  claim  a  place  among  the 
highest  specimens  of  pulpit  eloquence  which  this 
country  has  produced. 

August  %th.  We  have  had  a  distressing  drought.  The 
clouds  would  sometimes  gather,  as  though  they  made  an  ef- 
fort to  rain,  but  could  not.  They  would  rain  a  little  and  stop, 
as  though  it  was  hard  for  them  to  perform  their  wonted  office. 
We  have  had  also  a  most  alarming  and  distressing  spiritual 
drought.  Yice  has  prevailed  to  a  dreadful  degree.  Murders 
have  been ;  suicides,  to  the  number,  I  believe,  of  six  or  eight, 
have  happened  in  town  in  the  course  of  a  few  montlis, — 
three  within  the  last  week.  Yesterday  the  people  of  this  and 
some  neighboring  congregations  kept  a  day  of  fasting  and 
prayer,  on  account  of  the  double  drought.  It  was  with  us  a 
solemn  day.  And  lo  !  this  morning  the  clouds  pour  down  the 
rain  plentifully,  and  as  easily  as  April  showers.  The  obstruc- 
tion seems  removed,  as  when  the  prophets  of  Baal  were  slain. 
(I  Kings,  xviii.)  The  thunder  this  morning  and  the  appear- 
ance of  the  clouds  denote  a  rainy  day.  O  the  marvellous 
condescension  and  tenderness  of  God  towards  his  poor  infant 
creatures  !  What  pains  he  takes  to  pursuade  them,  and  pre- 
vail with  them  to  look  to  him  and  trust  in  him  !  O  that  the 
drought  which  rests  on  the  hill  of  Zion  might  be  as  speedily 
removed  !  Wilt  thou  care  for  the  earth,  O  God,  and  not  care 
for  thy  parched  vineyard? 

On  the  20th  July,  1807,  died  Dr.  McWhorter, 
the  senior  pastor  of  the  church,  and  on  the  22d 
Mr.  Griffjn  preached  his  funeral  sermon,  in  which 

Vol.  I.  12 


90  FIRST    RESIDENCE 

he  rendered  a  faithful  and  beautiful  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  his  venerable  colleague.  The  sermon 
was  published,  and  is  valuable,  not  only  as  a  fine 
specimen  of  eloquence,  but  as  an  important  histo- 
rical document. 

The  year  1807  was  signalized  by  one  of  the  most 
powerful  revivals  that  occurred  during  his  ministry. 
The  only  manuscript  record  that  he  has  left  of  it  is 
the  following. — "  Sept.  1807.  Began  a  great  revival 
of  Religion  in  the  town.  Ninety-seven  joined  the 
church  in  one  day,  and  about  two  hundred  in  all." 
A  more  full  account  of  this  revival,  however,  has 
been  preserved  in  a  letter  which  he  addressed  to 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Green  of  Philadelphia,  and  which 
was  published  in  the  Panoplist  of  July,  1808.  It  is 
as  follows : — 

Dear  Sir — 

I  am  very  willing  to  give  you  a  general  and  succinct  re- 
lation of  the  wonders  of  divine  grace,  which  we  have  wit- 
nessed. 

About  the  first  of  December,  1806,  we  were  encouraged 
with  some  symptoms  of  a  revival  of  religion  in  this  village; 
but  they  quickly  disappeared.  In  March,  1807,  they  were  re- 
newed, by  means  of  several  instances  of  sudden  death ;  but 
again  passed  off  leaving  no  effects  at  that  time  apparent,  ex- 
cept on  three  or  four  persons,  who  have  since  made  a  profes- 
sion of  religion.  The  death  of  Dr.  McWhorter  in  July,  made 
a  great  impression  on  the  congregation,  which  was  sensibly 
deepened,  in  the  month  of  August  through  the  instrumentali- 
ty of  the  Rev.  Gideon  Blackburn,  who  preached  several  times 
here  with  great  zeal  and  energy.  Though  nothing  extraor- 
dinary at  that  time  appeared,  yet  we  have  since  been  able  to 
trace  first  impressions  to  each  of  the  four  seasons  above  men- 
tioned.    The  laaven  was  secretly  and  increasingly  working 


AT    NEWARK,  9X 

for  nine  months,  before  it  became  evident.  We  have  since 
discovered  also  that  during  the  summer  God  was  preparing 
some  for  the  scene  whicli  was  about  to  open,  by  impressive 
and  often  repeated  dreams.  Days  of  dissipation  were  sepa- 
rated by  nights,  in  which  fancy  would  bear  the  sinner  to  the 
bar  of  God,  and  fill  him  with  the  terrors  of  the  final  judg- 
ment ;  terrors,  which,  though  dissipated  by  the  morning,  would 
return  with  returning  sleep.  These  nightly  alarms  gradually 
fixed  the  waking  thoughts.  Thus,  at  a  time  when  every 
thing  appeared  to  be  still  around  us,  secret  anxieties  were 
preying  upon  a  number  of  persons,  which,  so  far  from  being 
the  effect  of  sympathy,  were  known  only  to  God  and  them- 
selves. In  the  latter  weeks  of  August,  I  knew  of  nothing 
special  in  the  congregation,  except  two  or  three  persons,  who 
began  to  be  awakened,  and  four  christians  whose  desires  for  a 
revival  of  religion  were  too  earnest  to  be  concealed  from  their 
minister.  In  this  precise  posture  things  remained  for  about  a 
fortnight.  To  a  few  it  was  an  hour  of  awful  suspense.  But 
in  some  of  the  last  days  in  August  it  became  apparent  that 
the  desire  for  a  revival  was  rapidly  spreading  among  the  com- 
municants. 

As  our  sacramental  sabbath  was  approaching,  this  church, 
in  connexion  with  two  neighboring  churches,  agreed  to  set 
apart  the  preceding  Friday,  (Sept.  4th,)  for  fasting  and  prayer ; 
partly  as  a  preparatory  service,  but  chiefly  to  make  supplica- 
tion for  effusions  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  day,  which  was 
spent  in  prayer,  singing,  and  short  addresses  to  the  people,  was 
marked  with  unusual  stillness,  accompanied  with  very  pleas- 
ing appearances  of  humility,  earnest  desire,  and  a  sense  of  en- 
tire dependance.  On  the  following  sabbath,  a  number  of  per- 
sons assembled  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  to  spend  an 
hour  in  praying  for  their  minister,  and  for  the  blessing  of  God 
on  the  exercises  of  the  day ;  and  this  has  since  become  the 
stated  practice  of  almost  all  the  praying  people  of  the  congre- 
gation ;  a  practice  which  has  been  accompanied  with  effects 
very  refreshing  to  themselves,  and  materially  beneficial  to  the 
cause  of  evangelical  piety.     Those  who  attended  at  this  first 


93  FIRST    RESIDENCE 

season,  unexpectedly  found  themselves  animated  with  desires 
unfelt  before,  that  God  would,  that  very  day,  bring  out  his 
perfections  to  the  view  of  the  communicants :  And  this  he  did, 
to  a  degree  that  many  had  seldom  or  never  seen  before.  On 
the  evening  of  the  following  Monday,  at  a  lecture  preached  la 
a  private  house,  the  first  feelings  which  denoted  the  extraordi- 
nary presence  of  God,  and  the  actual  commencement  of  a  re- 
vival of  religion,  were  awakened,  perhaps  in  every  person  that 
was  present.  It  was  no  longer  doubtful  w^hether  a  work  of 
divine  grace  was  begun.  During  that  and  the  following  week, 
increasing  symptoms  of  a  most  powerful  influence  were  disco- 
vered. The  appearance  was  as  if  a  collection  of  waters,  long 
suspended  over  the  town,  had  fallen  at  once,  and  deluged  the 
whole  place.  For  several  weeks,  the  people  would  stay  at  the 
close  of  every  evening  service,  to  hear  some  new  exhortation ; 
and  it  seemed  impossible  to  persuade  them  to  depart,  until 
those  on  whose  lips  they  Jnuig  had  retired.  At  those  seasons 
you  might  see  a  multitude  weeping  and  trembling  around  their 
minister,  and  many  others  standing  as  astonished  spectators 
of  the  scene,  and  beginning  to  tremble  themselves.  One  sab- 
bath, after  the  second  service,  when  I  had  catechised  and  dis- 
missed the  little  children,  they  gathered  around  me,  weeping, 
and  inquired  what  they  should  do.  I  presume  not  less  than 
a  hundred  were  in  tears  at  once.  The  scene  was  as  affecting, 
as  it  was  unexpected.  Having  prayed  with  them  again,  and 
spent  some  time  in  exhortation,  I  attempted  to  send  them 
away  ;  but  with  all  my  entreaties,  I  could  not  prevail  on  them 
to  depart,  until  night  came  on,  and  then  I  was  obliged  to  go 
out  with  them,  and  literally  force  them  from  me.  But  this 
excitement  of  animal  feelings,  incident  to  the  commencement 
of  revivals  of  religion,  soon  subsided,  and  the  work  has  ever 
since  proceeded  in  profound  silence. 

Early  in  September,  there  were  formed  many  private  asso- 
ciations for  prayer, — some  male,  and  some  female, — the  happy 
influence  of  which  has  been  manifestly  and  largely  felt.  I 
never  before  witnessed  the  communication  of  a  spirit  of  prayer 
so  earnest  and  so  general,  nor  observed  such  evident  and  re- 


AT    NEWARK.  93 

markable  answers  to  prayer.  The  agonies  of  parents  have 
been  such  as  to  drive  sleep  from  their  eyes,  and  for  weeks  to- 
gether, have  been  seemingly  as  great  as  their  nature  could 
well  sustain.  And  these  parents,  in  every  case  that  has  come 
within  my  knowledge,  have  each  several  children,  who  are 
already  numbered  among  the  hopeful  converts. 

Many  professors  have  been  severely  tried,  and  net  a  few 
have  for  a  time,  given  themselves  over  for  lost.  The  Lord 
has  indeed  come  to  search  our  Jerusalem  with  candles,  and  to 
discover  the  men  that  were  settled  on  their  lees.  Awed  by  the 
majesty  of  a  present  God,  many  could  say,  with  Moses,  "  I 
exceedingly  fear  and  quake."  I  could  not  help  saying,  if  this 
glimpse  of  hght  dissipated  so  many  hopes,  what  effect  will  at- 
tend the  final  judgment  ? 

This  work,  in  point  of  power  and  stillness,  exceeds  all  that 
I  have  ever  seen.  While  it  bears  down  every  thing  with  irre- 
sistible force,  and  seems  almost  to  dispense  with  human  in- 
strumentality, it  moves  with  so  much  silence  that,  unless  we 
attentively  observe  its  effects,  we  are  tempted,  at  times,  to 
doubt  whether  any  thing  uncommon  is  taking  place.  The 
converts  are  strongly  marked  with  humility  and  self  distrust : 
instead  of  being  elated  with  confident  hopes,  they  are  inclined 
to  tremble.  Many  of  them  possess  deep  and  discriminating 
views ;  and  all,  or  almost  all,  are  born  into  the  distinguishing 
doctrines  of  grace. 

1  suppose  there  are  from  two  hundred  and  thirty  to  two 
hundred  and  fifty,  who  hope  that  they  have  become  the  sub- 
jects of  Divine  grace ;  and  many  remain  still  under  solemn 
impressions,  whose  number,  1  hope,  is  almost  daily  increasing. 
The  subjects  of  this  work  are  of  all  ages,  from  nine  years^  old, 
to  more  than  three  score  years  and  ten  ;  and  of  all  characters, 
including  drunkards,  apostates,  infidels,  and  those  who  were 
lately  malignant  opposers ;  and  of  all  conditions,  including 
poor  negroes,  and  some  of  them  hoary  with  age.  I  cannot 
refrain  from  mentioning,  among  the  hopeful  converts,  three 
young  gentlemen  of  the  first  talents  and  education,  and  of  ex- 
cellent families,  who  have  abandoned  the  study  of  the  law,  in 


94  FIRST   RESIDENCE 

which  they  have  been  employed  for  years,  to  devote  them- 
selves to  the  gospel  ministry. 

We  have  had  but  one  sacrament  since  the  work  commenc- 
ed, at  which  time  we  received  ninety-seven  new  members,  out 
of  one  hundred  and  two  persons,  who  had  been  propounded  a 
fortnight  before. 

While  we  gaze  with  wonder  and  delight  at  these  glorious 
triumphs  of  the  Prince  of  peace,  and  weep  for  joy  to  hear  our 
babes  and  suckUngs  sing  hosannas  to  the  Son  of  David,  we 
cannot  but  join  in  a  general  response,  and  cry,  "  Blessed  is  he 
that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord ;  hosanna  in  the  high- 
est"! 

I  am,  dear  sir,  most  affectionately  yours, 

EDWARD  D.  GRIFFIN. 

During  his  first  residence  at  Newark,  Mr.  Grif- 
riN  frequently  travelled  two  or  three  weeks  at  a 
time  in  company  with  some  brother  in  the  ministry, 
in  those  parts  of  New-Jersey  which  were  compa- 
ratively destitute  of  the  means  of  grace,  preaching 
the  gospel  with  great  power  and  sometimes  with 
great  success.  "  It  was  on  one  of  these  preaching 
tours,"  says  the  Rev.  Doctor  Hillyer,  "  that  the 
following  interesting  circumstance  occurred  to  him. 
One  night  when  we  were  not  together,  he  lodged  at 
a  house  near  a  hill  called  the  Sugar-loaf.  In  the 
morning  he  ascended  the  hill  to  take  a  view  of  the 
surrounding  country.  While  he  was  enjoying  a 
delightful  prospect,  a  maniac  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
was  meditating  his  death.  With  a  loaded  fowling- 
piece,  he  secreted  himself  behind  a  fence  near  a 
foot-path  in  which  the  Doctor  was  expected  to  de- 
scend. Providentially  a  neighbor  passing  by  dis- 
covered him,  and  went  to  him  and  inquired  what  he 
was  about  to  do  with  his  gun.     The  maniac  replied, 


AT    NEWARK.  95  ~ 

'  Look  up  yonder,  dont  you  see  that  man  ?  He  is  a 
British  spy  sent  over  by  the  king  of  England  to  spy 
out  our  land,  and  as  he  comes  down  I  intend  to 
shoot  him.'  '  No,'  said  the  neighbor,  '  he  is  the 
minister  who  preached  for  us  the  last  evening.' 
Upon  this  the  unhappy  man  gave  up  his  arms  and 
retired ;  but  it  was  fully  believed  by  those  who 
knew  the  state  of  his  mind,  that  he  would  have  shot 
our  friend  dead,  if  he  had  not  been  thus  providen- 
tially prevented.  The  Doctor  often  mentioned  this 
singular  escape  from  sudden  death  with  great  sen- 
sibility." 

In  August,  1808,  Mr.  Griffin  was  honored  with 
the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Union  Col- 
lege. 

The  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover  having 
just  been  established.  Doctor  Griffin  was  appoint- 
ed, in  the  course  of  this  year,  to  the  Bartlett  Pro- 
fessorship of  Pulpit  Eloquence  in  that  institution ; 
and  shortly  after  this  appointment,  he  was  elected 
by  the  infant  church  in  Park-street,  Boston,  their 
stated  preacher.  For  both  these  places  he  was  con- 
sidered as  pre-eminently  qualified ;  though  it  was 
not  without  much  deliberation,  and  as  it  would  seem 
many  severe  struggles,  that  he  finally  came  to  the 
determination  of  resigning  his  pastoral  charge. 
Before  the  meeting  of  Presbytery  in  April,  1809, 
he  requested  the  congregation  to  consent  to  his  dis- 
mission ;  and  having  obtained  their  consent,  he  was 
dismissed  at  that  meeting,  though  he  continued  his 
ministrations  among  them  till  the  last  of  May.  On' 
the  28th  of  May  he  preached  his  Farewell  sermon. 


96  FIRST   RESIDENCE 

It  was  a  noble  effort,  full  of  sublimity  and  pathos, 
worthy  of  the  occasion  and  worthy  of  the  man. 
It  has  had  an  extensive  circulation,  and  been  ad- 
mired on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  The  follow- 
ing paragraph  from  the  sermon,  exhibits  the  won- 
derful success  which  had  attended  his  ministry. 

"  Eight  years  ago,  this  church  consisted  of  two 
hundred  and  two  members,  of  whom  one  hundred 
and  forty-six  still  remain.  We  have  since  admitted 
four  hundred  and  thirty-four  to  our  communion,  of 
whom  three  hundred  and  seventy- six  still  remain. 
Of  those  whom  we  have  admitted,  sixty-two  were 
received  from  other  churches,  and  three  hundred 
and  seventy-two  from  the  world.  Of  the  latter  we 
admitted  a  hundred  and  thirteen  in  one  year,  and 
at  another  time  a  hundred  and  seventy-four  in  six 
months.  All  the  members  which  have  belonged  to 
this  church,  within  that  period,  amount  to  six  hun- 
dred and  thirty-six ;  of  whom  a  hundred  and  four- 
teen have,  in  various  ways,  been  removed,  and  five 
hundred  and  twenty-two  still  remain." 

Of  the  various  testimonies  of  respect  and  affec- 
tion which  he  received  from  his  people  on  leaving 
them,  the  following  letter,  from  the  Hon.  Elisha 
BouDiNOT,  dated  "Baltimore,  18th  May,  1809," 
may  suffice  as  a  specimen. 

Rev.  and  Dear  Sir, 

My  feelings  were  too  much  alive  at  the  idea  of  those  con- 
nections being  rent  asunder  which  I  had  fondly  hoped  would 
have  continued  until  they  had  placed  my  remains  in  the  house 
appointed  for  all  living — to  call  upon  you  before  I  left  home. 
I  knew  my  feelings  had  too  much  the  mastery  of  me  to  trust 
them  where  they  were  so  much  aroused.     Nothing  but  the 


AT    NEWARK.  97 

conviction  that  it  is  the  duty  of  every  servant  of  Oljrist  to  sa- 
crifice his  own  friendship,  feelings  and  connexions,  whenever 
there  is  a  probabihty  of  their  interfering  with  the  general  and 
superior  good  of  Zion,  could  have  made  me  submit  to  this 
separation  with  any  degree  of  composure.  But  viewing  this 
to  be  the  case,  I  rejoice  in  the  idea  that  our  great  Master  will 
make  you  instrumental  in  pulling  down  the  high  pillars  of 
Satan's  kingdom,  and  destroying  his  strong  hold,  and  cause 
you  to  witness  for  the  truth,  as  the  apostle  of  old,  even  at 
Rome. 

When  I  reflect  on  the  many  interesting  scenes  I  have  wit- 
nessed since  you  was  our  pastor — the  many  hours  of  sweet 
intercourse  we  have  had  together  ;  when  I  consider  your  zeal, 
your  ardor,  your  faithfulness  in  our  Master's  cause,  and  the 
blessing  that  has  attended  them,  the  thought  that  I  must  wit- 
ness them  no  more,  I  must  confess,  is  too  much  for  my  feeble 
nature  to  bear  with  composure,  and  1  must  weep  in  silence. 
May  a  compassionate  Saviour  forgive  the  falling  tear,  if  wrong! 
Suffer  me  to  entreat  still  an  interest  in  your  prayers,  and  that 
you  will  never  cease  wrestling  at  the  throne  of  grace  for  me 
and  those  who  are  dearer  to  me  than  life,  till  I  have  a  com- 
fortable hope  that  we  shall  all  meet  with  joy  at  the  final  ap- 
pearing of  our  glorious  Immanuel,  when  my  children  shall 
be  of  the  gems  that  shall  constitute  your  crown  of  rejoicing. 
Now  go  in  peace,  cloathed  with  the  whole  armor  of  God,  pre- 
pared to  fight  the  battles  of  our  Master;  and  the  God  of  Peace 
be  with  you,  and  make  you  abundantly  successful  in  all 
things,  and  continue  you  his  faithful  witness  to  the  end. 

My  dearest  Mrs.  B.  bears  the  idea  of  parting  worse  than  I 

do.     She  joins  me  with  our  children  here,  in  our  best  affection 

to  your  dear  Mrs.  Grifllin  and  Louisa,  wishing  you  may  long 

be  continued  a  blessing  to  each  other  in  health  and  happiness. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  aflfectionate  friend, 

ELISHA  BOUDINOT. 

Vol.  I.  13 


CHAPTEll  IV. 

HIS  RESIDENCE  AT  ANDOVER  AND  BOSTON. 

On  the  morning  after  he  preached  his  farewell 
sermon,  Doctor  Griffin  left  Newark  with  his  fa- 
mily for  Massachusetts,  and  on  the  21st  of  June 
was  inducted  with  appropriate  ceremonies  into  the 
professorship  at  Andover,  to  which  he  had  been  ap- 
pointed. His  inaugural  oration,  which  was  one  of 
his  most  chaste  and  beautiful  productions,  fully  jus- 
tified the  high  opinion  that  had  been  formed  of  his 
qualifications  for  that  important  station. 

There  was,  as  has  been  already  intimated,  an- 
other enterprise  with  which  Doctor  Griffin  about 
this  time  became  identified,  scarcely  less  important 
in  its  bearing  upon  the  interests  of  truth  and  piety, 
than  the  opening  of  the  Theological  Seminary, — 
viz.  the  establishment  of  Park-street  church.  For 
nearly  seventy  years  previous  to  this  period,  that 
great  system  of  religious  doctrine  which  had  been 
held  by  the  Pilgrim  fathers  had  been  gradually  de- 
clining in  the  capital  of  New-England,  till  it  seemed 
to  have  well  nigh  reached  the  point  of  utter  extinc- 
tion. It  would  be  a  most  important  service  to  the 
cause  of  Ecclesiastical  History  to  trace  minutely 


RESIDENCE    AT    ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  99 

the  progress  of  this  decline,  and  the  causes  in  which 
it  originated ;  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  before  this 
generation  shall  have  passed  away,  and  while  the 
materials  for  such  a  chapter  in  our  religious  history 
are  easily  accessible,  some  qualified  person  may  be 
found  to  address  himself  to  the  work.  If  a  remark 
or  two  on  the  subject  is  not  out  of  place  in  this 
connexion,  perhaps  it  is  safe  to  say,  that  this  la- 
mentable defection  is  to  be  traced,  more  than  to 
any  other  cause,  to  the  irregularities  and  extrava- 
gances that  prevailed  so  extensively  in  New-England 
during  the  revival  of  1741  and  1742,  in  which  Da- 
venport and  others  of  the  same  stamp  had  so  pro- 
minent an  agency.  No  doubt  that  many — perhaps 
most  of  these,  were  truly  devoted  men,  who  fully 
believed  that  in  all  their  wild  and  fanatical  move- 
ments they  were  doing  God  service;  and  several  of 
those  who  had  been  most  conspicuous,  especially 
Davenport  himself,  not  only  became  convinced  of 
their  errors,  but  retracted  them  in  an  honest  and 
christian-like  manner ;  but  still  it  admits  of  no  ques- 
tion that  their  influence  upon  the  church  was  both 
disastrous  and  enduring.  It  was  quite  natural  that 
some  of  those  churches  which  took  a  stand  against 
them  from  the  beginning  and  kept  it  to  the  end, 
should  have  come  out  of  the  conflict  with  fanati- 
cism with  an  undue  prejudice  against  religious  ex- 
citement ;  and  from  this  there  was  but  a  step  to  a 
state  of  chilling  formality ;  and  this  was  the  appro- 
priate field  for  the  propagation  of  a  lax  theology. 
And  it  was  quite  as  natural  on  the  other  hand,  that 
those  churches  over  which  the  tempest  of  fanati- 


100  RESIDENCE    AT 

cism  had  swept  unresisted,  should  gradually  sink 
into  a  state  of  indifference  under  the  influence  of  a 
withering  re-action :  and  here  again  was  the  legiti- 
mate preparation,  though  effected  in  a  different 
way,  for  sowing  the  seeds  of  error.  About  this 
time  arose  Doctor  Mayhew  and  Doctor  Chaun- 
CEY,  the  former  an  Arian  and  the  latter  a  Univer- 
salist  of  the  Restoration  school,  and  both  thorough 
going  Arminians,  and  men  of  great  power  and  com- 
manding influence.  The  evangelical  ministers  of 
Boston,  though  entertaining  a  cordial  dislike  for 
their  theological  peculiarities,  were  yet  unwilling  to 
renounce  fellowship  with  them,  especially  as  it  was 
understood  that  their  peculiar  views  were  rather  for 
the  study  than  the  pulpit.  For  thirty  or  forty  years 
the  influence  of  these  distinguished  men  was  ope- 
rating, silently  indeed,  but  with  great  power,  over 
most  of  the  churches  in  Boston  and  its  vicinity; 
and  the  secret  of  their  influence  no  doubt  to  a  great 
extent  was,  that  though  they  never  preached  hetero- 
doxy, at  least  in  orthodox  pulpits,  yet  their  views 
were  generally  understood,  and  the  interchange  of 
labors  with  them  by  evangelical  ministers  was  con- 
sidered as  a  virtual  acknowledgment  on  the  part  of 
such  ministers,  that  if  their  views  were  not  abso- 
lutely correct,  yet  they  were  not  deeply  erroneous. 
And  the  consequence  of  all  this  was,  that  when 
Doctor  Mayhew  and  Doctor  Chauncey  left  the 
stage,  there  was  not  only  a  leaven  of  Arminianism 
extensively  diffused  through  nearly  all  the  churches 
to  which  their  influence  had  extended,  but  it  was 
well  understood  that  several  clergymen  of  distinc- 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  101 

tion  had  secretly  embraced  their  more  startling  pecu- 
liarities. During  the  last  thirty  or  forty  years  pre- 
ceding the  commencement  of  the  present  century, 
the  theology  of  Boston  was  Arminianism  gradual- 
ly declining  into  Arianism ;  and  when  this  century 
opened,  though  there  had  been  no  direct  avowal  of 
any  dereliction  of  evangelical  principles,  except 
perhaps  on  the  part  of  a  single  church,  there  were 
probably  not  more  than  one  or  two  pulpits  in  Bos- 
ton in  which  was  taught  the  primitive  orthodoxy  of 
New-England.  There  had  been  no  decree  of  ba- 
nishment formally  and  openly  issued  against  this 
system  of  doctrine ;  and  there  were  not  wanting 
those  who  maintained  that  it  was  the  system  still  in 
vogue,  except  perhaps  being  a  little  pruned  of  some 
of  its  more  offensive  forms  of  phraseology ;  but  the 
truth  was,  it  had  been  silently,  and  by  almost  com- 
mon consent,  driven  into  exile;  and  it  came  to  pass 
at  length  that  it  was  as  much  as  a  man's  reputation 
was  worth  to  appear  openly  as  its  advocate.*   There 

*  The  following  extract  of  a  letter  on  this  subject,  from  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Miller,  is  regarded  as  too  important  to  be  withheld  from  the  public. 

"  There  are  two  sources  of  this  evil  which  appear  to  me  to  deserve  par- 
ticular consideration.  The  one  is  the  regular  system  of  exchanges  of  pul- 
pits, which  for  a  long  time  pervaded  the  Boston  churches.  When  I  was 
first  acquainted  with  that  city,  which  is  now  nearly  half  a  century  ago,  the 
system  of  exchanges  was  stated  and  uniform.  No  man  was  expected  to 
be  found  in  his  own  pulpit  on  Sabbath  morning.  And  as  there  was  known 
to  be  great  diversity  of  creed  among  the  ministers  of  the  city,  and  as  every 
sermon  that  a  pastor  wrote  was  expected  to  be  preached  in  aU  the  pulpits 
in  town  as  well  as  his  own,  each  got  into  the  habit  of  \vriting  on  such  a 
general  plan  as  would  give  offence  to  none.  Hence  those  who  believed  the 
peculiar  doctrines  of  the  gospel  seldom  brought  them  forward  with  any 
prominence  or  point;  and  those  who  did  not,  of  course,  whenever  they 
came  near  such  doctrines,  wrapped  up  their  discussion  in  general  and  in- 
offensive terms.  The  consequence  was,  that  the  most  precious  and  pecu- 
liar doctrines  of  the  gospel  were  seldom,  from  about  1756  or  1760,  preached 


102  RESIDENCE    AT 

were  individuals  in  most  of  the  churches  who  had 
long  watched  the  progress  of  this  apostacy  with 
deep  concern,  and  who  came  at  last  to  feel  that  a 
new  standard  in  favor  of  evangelical  religion  must 
be  raised  in  the  metropolis,  though  they  foresaw  it 
would  be  at  the  expense  of  breaking  many  of  their 
most  cherished  associations,  and  of  accumulating 
upon  themselves  a  mighty  amount  of  obloquy. 
Having  thoroughly  counted  the  cost  of  the  enter- 
prise, they  resolved  upon  the  formation  of  a  new 
church,  and  on  the  27th  of  February,  1809,  agreed 
to  adopt  the  following  articles  of  Faith. 

We  the  subscribers,  having  agreed  to  unite  in  the  establish- 
ment of  a  new  Congregational  Church  in  Boston,  by  the 
name  of  Park-street  Church,  think  it  proper  to  make  a  decla- 
ration of  that  faith  which  is  the  bond  of  our  ecclesiastical 
union,  and  which  we  shall  expect  to  find  in  all  those  who 
shall  hereafter  participate  in  our  religious  privileges  and  com- 
munion. 

by  any  body — i.  e.  after  the  decease  of  Drs.  Sewall,  Prince,  Foxcroft,  Webb, 
&e.  Soon  after  that  race  of  ministers  passed  away,  the  war  came  on;  the 
order  of  society  was  deranged;  general  laxity  increased ;  and  it  so  happen- 
ed that  some  of  the  most  erroneous  ministers  were  high  whigs  and  greatly 
popular,  and  of  course  well  adapted  to  secure  a  ready  reception  for  their 
errors.  Only  let  any  set  of  pastors  in  the  world  forbear  for  fifteen  or  twen- 
ty years  to  preach  the  peculiar  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  and  the  way  will 
be  prepared  at  the  end  of  that  time  to  receive  any  sentiments  which  artful 
and  popular  men  may  be  disposed  to  recommend. 

"  Another  source  of  the  mischief  was  this:— In  the  early  periods  of  the 
administration  of  our  Puritan  fathers,  there  was  a  close  connexion  between 
the  church  and  the  state.  All  the  conspicuous  leaders  in  civil  society  were 
church-members.  Nobody  was  thought  of  for  any  important  civil  station, 
but  a  professor  of  religion.  As  vital  piety  declined,  while  the  leading  men 
wished  still  to  be  professors  of  religion,  without  which  they  could  scarcely 
expect  the  popular  suffrage,  they  felt  that  they  could  not  make  a  profession 
excepting  on  some  more  lax  and  indulgent  system  than  that  which  was  taught 
by  the  Puritan  fathers.  Calvinism,  its  consequences  and  its  discipline,  were 
thought  too  strict ;  and  a  more  indulgent  system  was  sought  in  its  place. 
The  evils  to  which  this  led  may  easily  be  imagined." 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  IQS 

1.  We  believe  that  the  Scriptures  of  the  Old  and  New  Tes- 
tament are  the  word  of  God,  and  the  only  perfect  rule  of 
christian  faith  and  practice. 

2.  We  profess  our  decided  attachment  to  that  system  of  the 
christian  religion  which  is  distinguishingly  denominated  evan- 
gelical ;  more  particularly  to  those  doctrines  which  in  a  proper 
sense,  are  styled  the  Doctrines  of  Grace,  viz.  "  That  there  is 
one,  and  but  one  living  and  true  God,  subsisting  in  three  per- 
sons, the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost;  and  that 
these  Three  are  one  God,  the  same  in  substance,  equal  in 
power  and  glory ;  that  God  from  all  eternity,  according  to  the 
counsel  of  His  own  will,  and  for  his  own  glory,  fore-ordained 
whatsoever  comes  to  pass;  that  God  in  his  most  holy,  wise 
and  powerful  providence,  preserves  and  governs  all  his  crea- 
tures and  all  their  actions ;  that  by  the  Fall,  all  mankind  lost 
communion  with  God,  are  under  his  wrath  and  curse,  and  lia- 
ble to  all  the  miseries  of  this  life,  to  death  itself,  and  to  the 
pains  of  hell  forever ;  that  God,  out  of  his  mere  good  plea- 
sure, from  all  eternity  elected  some  to  everlasting  life,  entered 
into  a  covenant  of  grace,  to  deliver  them  from  a  state  of  sin 
and  misery,  and  introduce  them  into  a  state  of  salvation  by  a 
Redeemer ;  that  this  Redeemer  is  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the 
eternal  Son  of  God,  who  became  man,  and  continues  to  be 
God  and  man  in  two  distinct  natures  and  one  person  forever ; 
that  the  effectual  calling  of  sinners  is  the  work  of  God's  Spi- 
rit; that  their  justification  is  only  for  the  sake  of  Christ's 
righteousness  by  faith."  And  though  we  deem  no  man  or 
body  of  men  infallible,  yet  we  believe  that  those  divines  that 
were  eminently  distinguished  in  the  time  of  the  Reformation, 
possessed  the  spirit,  and  maintained  in  great  purity,  the  pecu- 
liar doctrines  of  our  holy  religion :  and  that  these  doctrines  are 
in  general  clearly  and  happily  expressed  in  the  Westminster 
Assembly's  Shorter  Catechism,  and  in  the  Confession  of  Faith 
owned  and  consented  unto  by  the  Elders  and  Messengers  of 
the  Churches,  assembled  at  Boston,  (N.  E.)  May  12th,  A.  D.  . 
1680. 

3.  In  regard  to  our  ecclesiastical  government  and  discipline, 


104  RESIDENCE    AT 

with  our  sister  churches  in  this  Commonwealth,  we  adopt  the 
congregational  form,  as  contained  in  the  Platform  of  Church 
DiscipUne,  gathered  out  of  the  word  of  God,  and  agreed  upon 
by  the  Eiders  and  Messengers  of  the  Churches,  assembled  in 
the  Synod  at  Cambridge,  (N.  E.)  A.D.  1648. 

4.  In  order  to  admission  to  membership  in  this  Church,  it  is 
understood  that  every  candidate  shall  be  previously  examined, 
and  give  credible  evidence  of  a  ground  of  the  comfortable  hope 
of  a  personal  condition  of  grace,  through  the  renovation  of  the 
soul,  by  the  special  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  implying  re- 
pentance for  sin  and  faith  in  Jesus  Christ  the  Redeemer. 

5.  We  hereby  covenant  and  engage,  as  fellow  christians  of 
one  faith,  and  partakers  of  the  same  hope  and  joy,  to  give  up 
ourselves  unto  the  Lord,  for  the  observing  the  ordinances  of 
Christ  together  in  the  same  society,  and  to  unite  together  into 
one  body  for  the  public  worship  of  God,  and  the  mutual  edifi- 
cation one  of  another  in  the  fellowship  of  the  Lord  Jesus ;  ex- 
horting, reproving,  comforting,  and  watching  over  each  other, 
for  mutual  edification; — looking  for  that  blessed  hope  and  the 
glorious  appearing  of  the  great  God,  even  our  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ,  who  gave  himself  for  us  that  he  might  redeem  us  from 
all  iniquity,  and  purify  unto  himself  a  peculiar  people  zealous 
of  good  works. 

The  following  is  the  Form  of  admission  to  the 
church,  written  by  Doctor  Griffin. 

You  have  presented  yourselves  in  this  pubhc  manner  be- 
fore God,  to  dedicate  yourselves  to  His  service,  and  to  incorpo- 
rate yourselves  with  His  visible  people.  You  are  about  to  pro- 
fess supreme  love  to  Him,  sincere  contrition  for  all  your  sins, 
and  faith  unfeigned  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  to  enter  into  a 
solemn  covenant  to  receive  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 
as  they  are  offered  in  the  Gospel,  and  to  walk  in  all  the  com- 
mandments and  ordinances  of  the  Lord  blameless.  We  trust 
you  have  well  considered  the  nature  of  these  professions  and 
engagements.     The  transaction  is  solemn,  and  will  be  attend- 


ANDOVKR    AND    BOSTON.  105 

ed  with  eternal  consequences.  God  and  holy  angels  are  wit- 
nesses. Your  vows  will  be  recorded  in  heaven,  to  be  exhibit- 
ed on  your  trial  at  the  last  day.  Yet  be  not  overwhelmed. 
In  the  name  of  Christ  you  may  come  boldly  to  the  God  of 
grace,  and  provided  only  you  have  sincere  desires  to  be  His, 
may  venture  thus  unalterably  to  commit  yourselves,  and  trust 
in  him  for  strength  to  perform  your  vows.     Attend  now  to  the 

COVENANT. 

In  the  presence  of  God,  his  holy  angels,  and  this  assembly, 
you  do  now  solemnly  dedicate  yourselves  to  God  the  Father 
as  your  chief  good  :  to  the  Son  of  God  as  your  Mediator  and 
Head,  humbly  relying  on  Him,  as  your  Prophet,  Priest,  and 
King :  and  to  the  Holy  Spirit  as  your  Sanctifier,  Comforter, 
and  Guide.  To  this  one  God,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 
you  do  heartily  give  up  yourselves  in  an  everlasting  covenant, 
to  love  and  obey  Him. 

Having  subscribed  the  Articles  of  Faith  and  Government 
adopted  by  this  church,  you  promise  to  walk  with  us  in  con- 
formity to  them,  in  submission  to  all  the  orders  of  the  Gospel, 
and  in  attendance  on  all  its  ordinances,  and  that  by  the  aid 
of  the  Divine  Spirit,  you  will  adorn  your  profession  by  a  holy 
and  blameless  life. 

This  you  severally  profess  and  engage. 

In  consequence  of  these  professions  and  promises,  we  affec- 
tionately receive  you  as  members  of  this  Church,  and  in  the 
name  of  Christ  declare  you  entitled  to  all  its  visible  privileges. 
We  welcome  you  to  this  fellowship  with  us  in  the  blessings  of 
the  Gospel,  and  on  our  part  engage  to  watch  over  you,  and 
seek  your  edification,  as  long  as  you  shall  continue  among  us. 
Should  you  have  occasion  to  remove,  it  will  be  your  duty  to 
seek  and  ours  to  grant  a  recommendation  to  another  Church : 
for  hereafter  you  can  never  withdraw  from  the  watch  and 
communion  of  the  saints,  without  a  breach  of  covenant. 

And  now,  beloved  in  the  Lord,  let  it  be  impressed  on  your 
minds,  that  you  have  entered  into  solemn  circumstances  from 
which  you  can  never  escape.     Wherever  you  go,  these  vows 

Vol.  I.  14 


106  RESIDENCE    AT 

will  be  upon  you.  They  will  follow  you  to  the  bar  of  God, 
and  in  whatever  world  you  may  be  fixed,  will  abide  upon  you 
to  eternity.  You  can  never  again  be  as  you  have  been.  You 
have  unalterably  committed  yourselves,  and,  henceforth,  you 
must  be  the  servants  of  God.  Hereafter  the  eyes  of  the  world 
will  be  upon  you:  and  as  you  demean  yourselves,  so  religion 
will  be  honored  or  disgraced.  If  you  walk  worthy  of  your 
profession,  you  will  be  a  credit  and  a  comfort  to  us ;  but  if  it 
be  otherwise,  you  will  be  to  us  a  grief  of  heart  and  a  vexa- 
tion. And  if  there  is  a  wo  pronounced  on  him  who  offends 
one  of  Christ's  little  ones,  wo,  wo,  to  the  person  who  offends 
a  whole  Church !  "But  beloved,  we  are  persuaded  better 
things  of  you,  and  things  that  accompany  salvation,  though 
we  thus  speak."  May  the  Lord  guide  and  preserve  you  till 
death,  and  at  last  receive  you  and  us  to  that  blessed  world 
where  our  love  and  joy  shall  be  forever  perfect.  Amen. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  RICHARDS. 

A7idover,  {Mass.)  July,  29th,  1809. 
My  Dear  Brother — 

So  long  a  time  has  elapsed  before  I  have  had  a  moment  of 
leisure  to  acknowledge  your  favors  of  June  24th  and  July  14th. 
They  gave  me  the  sincerest  pleasure,  mingled  with  many 
other  emotions  which  I  need  not  describe.  I  am  rejoiced  to 
hear  repeatedly  of  the  growing  attachment  of  my  former 
charge  to  you,  and  the  strength  which  it  has  already  acquired. 
May  you  be  happy  in  them ;  and  may  they  know  how  to 
prize  the  blessing  which  God  has  given  them.  You  judge 
right  when  you  suppose  that  I  think  of  you  and  them,  when 
I  have  not  leisure  to  write.  I  have  suffered  from  my  separa- 
tion more  than  I  even  expected.  But  you  know  what  the 
feelings  are.  I  rejoice  greatly  that  your  place  is  filled  at  Mor- 
ristown  by  our  dear  brother  Fisher.  Give  my  love  to  him, 
and  tell  him  that  I  thank  him,  and  thank  God.  Give  my 
love  to  all  my  dear  friends  in  Newark.  They  are  so  many, 
that  I  ought  not  to  particularize.  I  love  them  all,  and  hope 
one  day  to  meet  many  of  them  again  to  part  no  more. 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  107 

I  know  that  you  and  they  wish  to  hear  from  us  of  our  af- 
fairs.. Dr.  Morse  and  Mr.  Thurston,  whom  you  will  have 
seen  before  the  arrival  of  this,  will  tell  you  how  the  new 
church  prospers  in  Boston.  The  house  is  to  be  opened  by 
the  first  of  December.  A  great  majority  of  the  male  commu- 
nicants are  staunch  Edwardeans. 

As  to  the  Seminary,  we  have  35  students,  and  new  appli- 
cations almost  every  week. 

Tuesday,  August  \st.  You  will  judge,  my  dear  brother, 
of  my  avocations,  when  you  are  informed  that,  since  the  last 
date,  I  have  not  had  time  to  add  one  line ;  and  now  I  cannot 
but  a  few.  A  spirit  of  increasing  seriousness  begins  to  be  ap- 
parent among  the  students.  They  have  a  number  of  prayer 
meetings.  Mr.  French,  the  minister  of  this  parish,  was  sud- 
denly removed  on  Friday  last,  which  has  made  an  important 
opening  for  a  man  of  evangelical  sentiments.  One  of  the 
last  tilings  he  did  was  to  settle  with  the  professors  a  plan  of 
union  between  the  students  and  parishioners,  in  regard  to 
prayer  meetings.  We  can  now  say  to  the  people  that  their 
aged  minister  left  it  as  his  dying  request,  that  his  people  would 
join  the  students  in  these  meetings.  Such  meetings  have  not 
been  known  on  this  ground  before.  We  cannot  but  hope  that 
God  has  some  glorious  work  to  accomplish  in  this  region. 
Pray  for  us. 

The  young  gentlemen  from  New- Jersey  are  all  well— en- 
tirely well — and  contented — and  are  doing  very  well.  They 
are  highly  useful  to  the  other  students  and  to  the  Institution. 
Tell  Mr.  Crane  this,  and  that  I  intend  to  answer  his  very  ac- 
ceptable letter  as  soon  as  I  have  a  little  leisure. 

Since  last  spring  there  has  been  a  pretty  large  and  increas- 
ing association  for  fasting  and  prayer  for  the  effusions  of  the 
Spirit  among  the  ministers  of  this  neighborhood.  This  augurs 
well. 

I  never  consented  till  to-day  to  give  up  my  inaugural  ora- 
tion for  the  press.  You  will  probably  one  day  see  the  thing. 
Mrs.  Griffin  joins  in  most  affectionate  remembrance  of  Mrs. 
Richards,  and  yourself,  with,  yours,  inviolably,  and,  I  hope, 
forever.  E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 


108  RESIDENCE    AT 

Dr.  Griffin  had  scarcely  reached  Andover  and 
entered  upon  the  duties  of  his  professorship,  before 
his  character  was  most  injuriously  assailed,  and 
scandalous  reports  were  put  in  circulation  concern- 
ing him,  which  were  triumphantly  repeated  on  every 
side  by  the  enemies  of  truth  and  piety,  and  which, 
from  the  confidence  with  which  they  were  trumpet- 
ed, temporarily  gave  no  small  anxiety  to  many  of 
his  friends.  As  these  reports  had  respect  to  al- 
leged improprieties  in  Newark,  the  Trustees  and 
Session  of  his  former  church,  as  soon  as  they  heard 
of  the  slanderous  allegations  from  which  he  was 
suffering,  addressed  to  him  the  following  letter, 
which  contains  not  only  a  complete  vindication  of 
his  character,  but  a  strong  expression  of  their  af- 
fectionate regard. 

Newark,  22d  August,  1809. 
Rev.  and  Dear  Sir: 

We  have  lately  been  informed  that  reports  are  circula- 
ting in  Boston  and  its  vicinity,  unfavorable  to  your  character, 
such  as  your  being  obliged  to  leave  this  congregation — that 
you  was  immoral,  (fcc.  As  far  as  those  slanders  affect  your- 
self personally,  we  should  not  have  interfered ;  being  con- 
vinced that  they  would  be  but  temporary,  and  that  as  soon 
as  you  was  known,  and  wherever  known,  the  tongue  of  slan- 
der would  be  silenced.  But  as  we  believe  that  the  eniliity 
which  is  the  foundation  of  these  reports,  arises  from  a  hatred 
and  opposition  to  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  which  you  so  faith- 
fully preach,  more  than  from  a  disrespect  to  yourself,  and  may 
for  a  short  time  (which  is  the  utmost  they  can  do)  injure  the 
glorious  cause  in  which  you  are  engaged,  with  some  minds ; 
we  take  the  liberty  to  address  you  on  the  subject,  and  to  de- 
clare—-That  if  the  ardent  respect,  love  and  affection  of  your 
congregation  could  have  detained  you,  we  should  still  have 


ANDOVER    AND   BOSTON.  109 

had  the  happiness  of  calling  you  our  pastor.  Nothing  but  a 
conviction  and  belief  that  you  was  called  to  a  scene  of  more 
extensive  usefulness  in  the  church  of  God,  induced  us,  from  a 
sense  of  duty,  to  submit  to  your  removal.  If  any  thing  was 
wanting  to  convince  the  world  of  the  attachment  this  congre- 
gation had  towards  you,  the  circumstance  of  your  being  una- 
nimously requested  to  continue  with  us  as  long  as  you  could, 
consistently  with  your  engagements,  after  you  had  been,  at 
your  own  request,  regularly  dismissed  by  the  Presbytery,  and 
another  pastor  had  been  chosen, — your  salary  and  emoluments 
continued  to  the  day  of  your  departure,^the  crowded  church 
that  attended  your  farewell  sermon, — the  tears  that  flowed  on 
your  leaving  the  town, — abundantly  furnished  this  evidence. 
And  be  assured,  Sir,  that  although  absent,  you  still  live  in 
the  aflfections  of  the  people  of  your  late  charge :  your  exem- 
plary hfe, — your  ardent  zeal  for  the  good  of  the  souls  commit- 
ted to  your  charge,  and  your  faithful  labors  amongst  us,  will 
not  be  forgotten,  while  memory  holds  a  place  in  our  breasts. 

We  beseech  you  not  to  suffer  the  calumnies  of  the  enemies 
of  your  Master  to  dispirit  you.  Remember  that  you  have  not 
attained  to  the  sufferings  of  your  Lord,  his  apostles,  and  faith- 
ful servants  who  have  gone  before  you.  The  crown  of  your 
rejoicing  is  sure  and  certain.  Set  your  face  as  a  flint,  and 
hold  out  to  the  end. 

Your  affectionate  friends, 

D.  D.  CRANE, 
ELEAZAR  BRUEN, 
JAMES  TICHKNOR, 
JOSEPH  CONGAR,    \  Elders. 
ISAAC  NICHOLS, 
MOSES  ROBERTS, 
JOSEPH  L.  KEEN, 

STEPHEN  BALDWIN,  ) 
ISAAC  ALLING,  }  Deacons. 

JABEZ  BALDWIN,        ) 

ELISHA  BOUDINOT,  Pres't. 
J.  N.  CUMMING, 
JOSEPH  T.  BALDWIN, 
MOSES  BALDWIN, 
STEPHEN  HAYS,  i 

ROBERT  E.  CAMPFIELD, 
NEHEMIAH  S.  BALDWIN, 


110  RESIDENCK    AT 

1  do  hereby  certify  that  the  gentlemen  who  have  subscribed 
their  names  to  the  within  letter,  are  every  member  of  the  Ses- 
sion and  Trustees  of  this  church,  except  one  of  the  Elders, 
who  is  absent  from  town ;  and  I  have  no  doubt,  if  it  should 
be  thought  necessary,  that  the  whole  church,  comprehending 
more  than  five  hundred  persons,  would  subscribe  the  same, 
with  very  few  or  no  exceptions. 

JAMES  RICHARDS, 

Pastor  of  the  first  Presbyterian  Congregation  of  Newark. 

On  leaving  New-Jersey,  Doctor  G.  was  accom- 
panied by  five  young  men  who  became  students  in 
the  new  theological  seminary.  One  of  these,  Mr. 
Lewis  Le  Count  Congar,  sickened  and  died,  while 
yet  in  the  early  part  of  his  theological  course.  An 
interesting  sketch  of  his  character  was  published  in 
the  Panoplist  for  September,  1810.  The  following 
letters  were  written  by  Dr.  G.  to  the  parents  of  Mr. 
Congar  on  the  occasion  of  his  illness  and  death. 

Boston,  January  2,  1810. 
My  Dear  Sir, — 

How  often  have  you  and  your  dear  family  said,  "  The  Lord 
reigneth,  let  the  earth  rejoice."  What  a  blessed  thing  it  is 
that  he  has  the  appointment  of  all  our  changes  and  trials.  He 
has  appointed  the  bounds  of  our  habitation,  and  the  time  of 
our  continuing  on  the  earth.  He  has  no  need  of  any  of  us. 
He  can  raise  up  children  lo  himself  of  the  stones  of  the  streets, 
and  ministers  from  the  Pagan  world.  Or  he  can  carry  on  his 
work  without  ministers.  You  have  given  a  son  to  Christ,  and 
if  he  has  work  for  him  on  the  earth,  he  will  preserve  him  and 
make  him  a  blessing  to  the  church ;  but  if  he  has  other  de- 
signs, he  will  I  doubt  not,  take  him  to  himself  Whether  our 
dear  Lewis  is  to  be  made  a  minister,  or  an  angel,  is  with  God 
to  decide.  You  will  conjecture  by  this  time,  that  your  son  is 
sick.  He  is  not  well.  Be  not  alarmed ;  God  can  make 
him  well.     At  any  rate,  his  will  will  be  done.     I  have  been 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  Hi 

for  several  days  confined  to  my  room  with  a  dreadful  cold ; 
and  have  the  distress  of  being  still  confined,  so  that  I  cannot 
go  to  see  him.  But  sick  as  I  am  I  cannot  refrain  from  v^^rit- 
ing  to  you.  Lewis  has  the  typhus  fever.  The  best  physicians 
have  been  procured  for  him,  and  the  best  attendance.  His 
mind  is  weak ;  but  he  loves  to  hear  of  the  name  of  Christ,  and 
will  listen  with  deep  interest  and  tender  affection  to  every  thing 
that  is  said  about  that  blessed  Saviour,  I  long  to  go  and  see 
the  dear  boy.  I  never  before  longed  so  much  to  do  a  thing 
that  I  could  not  do.  But  I  must  submit.  All  that  I  can  do  I 
have  done.  I  have  sent  a  request  to  C.  and  C.  to  let  me  hear 
every  day  from  him.  And  as  often  as  I  hear,  God  willing, 
you  shall  hear,  I  beseech  you,  my  dear  friends,  to  summon 
all  your  fortitude  and  all  your  religion  to  your  aid.  Prepare 
for  every  thing  which  God  has  in  store  for  you.  That  I  have 
some  apprehensions  you  will  suppose,  when  I  inform  you  that 
this  letter  is  written,  not  without  tears.  The  footsteps  of  God 
are  in  the  mighty  deep  ;  and  his  way  is  not  known.  Clouds 
and  darkness  are  round  about  him ;  but  justice  and  judgment 
are  the  habitation  of  his  throne.  May  God  Almighty  support 
you,  my  dear  friends,  under  this  trial,  is  my  prayer,  and  the 
prayer  of  Mrs.  Grifiin  who  sits  by  me  and  weeps. 
Affectionately  yours, 

E,  D.  GRIFFIN. 

Boston,  Jan.  3,  1810. 
Last  night,  at  11  o'clock,  I  sent  off  a  basket  of  the  best 
things  which  Boston  could  afford,  by  a  man  who  promised  to 
stop  at  no  place,  (though  the  distance  is  20  miles,)  until  he 
had  lodged  them  in  the  sick  room  of  the  dear  boy.  They 
were  such  things  as  Dr.  Pearson  represented  to  be  necessary, 
viz.  oranges,  lemons,  tamarinds,  figs,  guaver-jam,  sago,  and 
a  few  bottles  of  old  Madeira  wine.  We  do  little  else  but  pray 
for  him ;  and  the  whole  college  is  crying  with  tears,  "  Spare 
him,  spare  him  !"  Mrs.  Griffin,  having  wept  out  all  her  tears, ' 
says  "  He  will  live,"  I  cannot  but  humbly  and  earnestly 
hope  that  God  will  spare  him  for  your  sakes,  and  for  ours,  and 


112  RESIDENCE    AT 

for  the  church  of  Christ.  Let  no  one  leave  home  on  his  ac- 
count. He  will  either  recover,  or  the  messenger  would  arrive 
too  late.     With  deep  affection  and  sympathy,  I  am. 

Yours,  E.  D.  G. 

Boston^  Jaymary  ^th,  1810. 

The  Almighty  God  support  you,  my  dear  friends,  under 
the  trials  which  you  must  feel.  1  wish  with  all  ray  heart  that 
I  had  any  thing  agreeable  to  communicate.  And  I  have- 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  reigns.  The  infinite  God  is  happy.  And 
our  dear  Lewis  is  happy.  Ah  my  heart,  why  this  aching  and 
trembling?  The  will  of  God  is  done.  Lewis  himself  wished 
that  the  will  of  God  might  be  done.  And  I  am  confident  that 
he  does  not  wish  to  oppose  it  now.  It  is  with  the  deepest  sym- 
pathy, my  dear  friends,  that  I  announce  to  you  an  event 
which  has  filled  our  college  with  tears,  and  spread  a  gloom 
over  us  all.  Lewis  left  these  abodes  of  pain  this  morning  at 
10  o'clock. 

My  heart  aches  and  bleeds  for  you.  By  my  own  sorrows  I 
know  that  yours  must  be  extreme.  I  never  knew  how  to  love 
him  till  since  he  left  Newark ;  and  since  his  sickness  I  have 
almost  felt  that  my  earthly  comfort  was  at  an  end.  No  young 
man  was  ever  more  beloved.  For  myself  I  can  say  of  him, 
what  I  cannot  of  many  others,  that  I  never  saw  any  thing  in 
him  that  had  the  appearance  of  sin  since  he  has  been  under 
my  care  ;  no  not  the  least  word  or  turn  of  thought. 

He  has  not  lived  in  vain.  He  did  not  come  to  Andover  in 
vain.  He  has  been  the  means  of  good  to  some  souls  ;  and  by 
his  influence  on  the  college,  has  probably  been  indirectly  the 
means  of  some  good  to  thousands.  His  parents  have  reason 
to  bless  God  that  they  were  the  means  of  bringing  a  son  into 
the  world  to  do  so  much  good  as  he  has  done  at  Andover. 

I  know  your  trial  in  not  being  able  to  see  him.  I  have  felt 
it  myself  During  all  the  time  that  he  has  been  considered 
dangerous,  I  have  been  confined  to  my  house.  I  am  still  con- 
fined, and  cannot  attend  his  funeral  to-morrow.  His  dust 
will  lie  in  a  strange  land ;  but  mind  not  that.     It  will  not  be 


ANDOVER    ANU    BOSTON.  113 

lost  or  overlooked.  It  will  be  gathered  and  restored  to  him 
and  to  you.  I  have  much  to  say.  I  pity  you  with  all  my 
heart.  I  know  not  that  I  was  ever  so  tenderly  tried  before. 
May  God  support  you  and  comfort  you  all. 

Affectionately  yours,  E.  D.  G. 

Bosioti,  Jan.  7,  Sabbath,  5  o'clock  P.  M. 

This  hour  they  are  burying  our  dear  child  !  And  as  I  can 
think  of  nothing  else,  I  sit  myself  down  to  commune  with 
his  afflicted  parents  and  sisters.  No  creature  so  dear  to  me 
ever  left  this  earth.  I  am  thinking  of  his  pleasant  manners, 
by  which  he  comforted  us  by  the  way,  when  we  left  at  New- 
ark almost  all  that  was  dear  to  us ;  and  how  he  helped  Mrs. 
Griffin  and  Louisa  over  the  hills.  I  am  thinking  of  his  spright- 
ly gambols  in  our  fields  and  our  summer  house,  and  how  de- 
Ughted  he  was  with  every  scene,  which  he  served  to  render 
more  delightful.  I  am  thinking  of  his  attentions  to  me  in 
sickness;  his  affectionate  sympathy,  and  mature  judgment, 
by  which  he  soothed  and  strengthened  me  during  all  my  trou- 
bles since  I  left  you.  Verily  he  has  not  died  in  my  debt.  He 
has  more  than  compensated  me  for  all  my  attentions  to  him. 
In  following  summers,  every  object  in  our  fields  will  bring  the 
dear  youth  fresh  to  my  thoughts.  And  if  his  body  is  permit- 
ted to  remain  there,  I  shall  often  visit  his  grave,  and  bathe  it 
with  my  tears.  It  will  be  a  spot  ever  sacred  and  dear  to  me. 
I  and  my  family  shall  yet  be  with  him,  and  rise  with  him  at 
the  last  day.  He  has  been  a  great  comfort  to  me.  Surely  he 
did  not  come  to  Andover  in  vain.  I  have  had  some  distress- 
ing thoughts  about  being  the  means  of  taking  him  from  New 
ark ;  and  I  suppose  that  you  may  be  tempted  to  say,  "  If  he 
had  not  left  Newark,  he  would  not  have  died."  But,  my 
friends,  it  is  all  the  appointment  of  heaven.  Eternal  wisdom 
fixed  it  that  he  should  die  at  that  time  and  place;  and  per- 
haps more  good  will  result  to  the  college,  and  through  that  to 
the  churches,  from  his  death,  than  he  would  have  done  had 
he  lived.  He  was  to  come,  and  was  to  die  in  a  strange  land; 
and  you  and  I  were  to  weep  under  the  great  loss.     And  great 

Vol.  1.  15 


114  RESIDENCE    AT 

it  is.  Few  parents  ever  lost  more  in  a  single  son.  But  con- 
sider, my  dear  friends,  how  many  comforts  you  have  left.  You 
have  two  dear  children  ;  and  they  have  two  dear  parents. 
May  you  live  long  to  be  a  mutual  comfort  to  each  othei'.  We 
had  just  licensed  him  to  preach,  when  God  translated  him  to 
the  church  triumphant.  I  can  give  no  other  reason  for  it  than 
that  he  was  too  refined  by  divine  grace  to  Hve  in  this  gross 
and  polluted  world. 

Think  not,  my  dear  friends,  that  you  have  lost  your  pains 
in  giving  him  an  education.  No,  you  have  been  fitting  him 
for  more  than  a  pulpit,— for  a  higher  throne  in  heaven.  The 
expansion  of  mind  which  his  education  has  given  him,  will 
probably  render  him  a  more  illustrious  instrument  of  God's 
glory,  and  make  him  a  more  capacious  vessel  to  contain  hap- 
piness, while  the  kingdom  endures.  You  have  not  lost  any 
of  your  pains,  nor  any  of  your  prayers  for  him.  Few  parents 
have  been  so  much  honored,  as  to  raise  up  and  send  such  a 
son  to  assist  the  praises  of  the  assembly  of  the  first  born. 
There  he  is!  Think  not  of  him  on  a  bed  of  sickness, — in  a 
land  of  strangers, — away  from  his  parents  and  sisters.  Think 
of  him  on  Mount  Zion.  There  is  all  that  is  Lewis.  The  rest 
is  mere  dust.  We  have  not  lost  him.  He  is  only  gone  a  lit- 
tle before  us.  Ten  thousand  worlds  would  not  tempt  him  to 
return.  There  we  shall  soon  find  him  and  enjoy  him  again, 
and  forever — and  far  better  than  we  ever  did  in  this  world. 
Ah,  my  heart !  why  this  bleeding  and  breaking?  Did  we  not 
know  a  year  ago  that  Lewis  must  remove?  If  the  church 
might  not  go  to  heaven,  in  vain  would  be  a  gospel  ministry, 
and  revivals  of  religion.  It  was  indeed  desirable  to  keep  him 
with  us  a  little  longer.  But  I  now  perceive  that  our  past  re- 
vivals were  not  so  much  intended  to  raise  up  comforts  for  us 
in  this  world,  or  to  fit  men  to  preach  the  gospel,  as  to  fit  souls 
for  that  eternal  society  to  which  our  dear  Lewis  has  gone. 
Oh  may  my  thoughts  be  more  loosed  from  earth,  and  fix  on 
that  glorious  assembly  of  our  fathers  and  brethren,  which  has 
been  increasing  since  the  days  of  Adam.  There  is  Lewis ! 
There  will  soon  be  his  parents  and  sisters.     And  there  I  hope 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  115 

soon  to  meet  you  all,  to  part  no  more  forever.  Blessed  world ! 
No  death,  no  parting,  no  sorrow,  no  sin !  Stay  there,  dear 
child !  No  longer  a  child — my  superior !  my  angel !  stay  there ! 
I  would  not  entice  thee  if  I  could,  from  those  regions  of  bliss 
and  glory. 

Mrs.  Griffin  weeps  almost  all  the  time.  I  join  with  her  in 
the  tenderest  sympathy,  and  in  prayers  that  God  may  abun- 
dantly support  you. 

Your  afflicted  and  affectionate  friend, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  RICHARDS. 

Boston^  Jan.  I5th,  1810. 
My  Dear  Brother: 

If  you  knew  all  the  reasons  which  have  kept  me  so  long 
silent,  you  would  excuse  me,  if  you  did  not  feel  something 
approaching  nearer  to  compassion.  I  have  had  no  leisure, 
and  no  heart  to  write.  Lately  we  have  been  greatly  afflicted 
by  the  death  of  our  ever  dear  young  friend  Mr.  Congar.  He 
left  the  world  as  we  all  should  wish  to  leave  it,  and  has  left  a 
name  behind  like  the  fragrance  of  precious  ointment.  I  hope 
that  you  will  do  all  in  your  power  to  comfort  the  dear  afflict- 
ed family.  Some  of  the  young  men  at  Andover  intend  to 
send  to  the  parents  a  minute  account  of  all  he  said  during  his 
sickness. 

Our  college  (for  so  it  is  called)  contains  about  50  students. 
The  serious  attention  in  that  town  continues,  and,  I  hope,  in- 
creases. But  where  ignorance  of  evangelical  truth  so  much 
abounds,  much  is  to  be  done  in  the  way  of  instruction,  before 
many  fruits  can  be  expected  to  appear. 

On  Tuesday  last,  Mrs.  G.  made  me  happy  by  the  present 
of  another  daughter.  She  and  the  child  are  doing  well.  On 
Wednesday  we  dedicated  our  new  church.  The  house  was 
crowded,  as  it  was  three  times  yesterday.  The  dedication 
sermon  was  preached  on  an  occasion  extremely  interesting, 
delicate,  and  hazardous.  The  church  had  been  from  the  be- 
ginning viewed  as  a  monster,  which  was  erecting  its  head, 


116  RESIDENCE    AT 

and  opening  its  mouth,  to  swallow  up  men,  women  and  child- 
ren, and  which  by  its  terrifying  roar  was  about  to  drive  sleep 
from  every  family  in  the  town,  and  to  scare  people  of  weak 
nerves  out  of  their  wits.  It  was  ascertained  that  most  of  the 
ministers  in  the  town  and  its  vicinity  would  be  present  on  the 
occasion.  It  was  a  primary  object  to  remove  prejudice,  with- 
out losing  the  grand  opportunity  to  call  the  public  mind  to  the 
difference  between  our  religion  and  the  religion  of  Boston. 
How  I  succeeded,  you  will  presently  see.  I  shall  have  to  give 
up  the  sermon,  which  I  expect  will  be  the  beginning  of  the 
campaign.  You  will  judge  of  the  spirit  with  which  the  war 
is  about  to  be  begun,  when  I  tell  you  that  within  a  few  hours 
after  the  sermon  was  delivered,  a  subscription  paper  was  print- 
ed, unknown  to  me,  and  more  than  1000  copies  subscribed 
for.  I  intend  to  send  the  sermon  and  the  inaugural  oration 
(not  yet  printed)  to  you  in  a  few  weeks. 

You  can  form  no  adequate  idea  of  the  strength  of  Satan's 
kingdom  in  this  town  and  its  vicinity.  The  injury  which 
Chauncey,  and  a  few  other  men,  have  done  to  the  church  in 
this  region,  is  incalculable.  Our  church  has  been  overwhelm- 
ed with  contempt.  ******  rp^^  Catholicism  of 
Boston  is  the  most  intolerant  bigotry  that  I  ever  witnessed, 
when  directed  towards  the  religion  of  Christ.  It  is  a  fiend 
which  never  wears  a  smile  but  when  its  eye  is  directed  towards 
the  most  abominable  errors.  But  I  must  not  rail  at  this  rate. 
I  am  drawing  towards  the  end  of  my  sheet.  Give  my  kind- 
est regards  to  your  dear  family,  and  to  all  your  dear  people 
who  inquire  after  me,  and  to  our  brethren  in  the  ministry, 
brothers  Hillyer,  McDowell,  Thompson,  &c.  I  love  them  all, 
and  never  knew  how  well  I  loved  them  till  since  I  feel  their 
loss.  I  have  much  to  say,  but  have  no  more  time  nor  room. 
Write  me  soon,  and  tell  me  all  the  news. 
Affectionately  yours, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  llT 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Boston^  March  6fh,  1810. 
*  *  I  was  much  gratified  by  your  approbation  of  my  sermon 
and  oiation.  The  former  does  not  give  so  much  satisfaction 
to  some  folks  here.  A  httle  periodical  work  entitled  "  Some- 
thing," has  been  nibbhng  at  it  for  several  weeks  ;  and  the  last 
number  of  the  Anthology  opened  its  mouth,  as  wide  as  a 
shark's,  and  devoured  it  at  once.  They  have  proved  that  the 
style  is  horrid,  that  the  doctrines  are  worse,  and  that  I  have 
made  at  least  four  or  five  persons  in  the  Trinity.  They  have 
offered  a  fair  occasion  for  the  friends  of  truth  to  give  them 
some  edifying  lessons.  The  campaign  is  fairly  begun.  How 
it  will  end,  tlie  Lord  knows.  Let  not  those  who  put  on  the 
armor,  boast  as  those  who  put  it  off.  Some  of  your  southern 
goose-quills  must  be  drawn  in  the  combat,  lest  they  should 
drive  us  out  of  the  land. 

Our  house  continues  to  be  filled  much  in  the  same  manner 
as  when  I  wrote  you  last.  We  have  sold  or  rented  nearly  a 
hundred  pews.  You  have  no  conception  of  the  falsehoods 
which  are  propagated,  and  the  pains  which  are  taken,  to  pre- 
vent people  from  coming  to  our  church.  But  the  more  they 
try  to  prevent,  the  more  the  people  will  not  mind  them.  Pre- 
judice is  fast  wearing  away. 

We  have  given  Dr.  Nott  a  unanimous  call ;  and  expect  to 
hear  from  him  this  week.  Mr.  Stuart,  late  of  New-Haven, 
was  inaugurated,  as  professor  of  sacred  literature,  last  week. 
The  stories  about  Dr.  Pearson's  abusing  me,  or  quarrelling 
with  me,  or  being  unfriendly  to  me,  are  all  false.  He  resigned 
on  account  of  age  and  infirmity.  He  is  a  good  man,  and  is 
still  an  active  and  very  useful  friend  of  our  college. 

There  is  a  very  considerable  revival  of  religion  at  Salem, 
Marblehead,  and  several  other  towns  in  the  vicinity.  O  that 
the  sacred  influence  might  reach  Boston  !  I  preach  on  Thurs- 
day evenings  in  our  vestry.  People  attend  well,  and  appear 
solemn.  There  are  also  many  prayers  put  up  for  the  divine 
influence.     This  is  all  we  can  say. 

Last  sabbath  we  had  our  first  sacrament.     It  was  an  inte- 


118  RESIDENCE    AT 

resting  day.  In  the  afternoon  I  baptized  our  infant,  by  the 
name  of  Ellen  Maria.     It  was  the  first  child  baptized  in  the 

1  ******** 

house. 

We  have  now  between  fifty  and  sixty  students  in  our  college. 
We  talk  of  building  another  college  and  chapel,  as  the  first  col- 
lege is  nearly  filled. 

I  am  happy  to  hear  of  the  increasing  affection  of  your  pa- 
rish for  their  pastor.  I  hope  you  may  enjoy  many  happy 
days  with  that  dear  people.  ***** 

*  *  *  Mrs.  G.  joins  me  in  the  kindest  love  to  you  and 
Mrs.  Richards.  Ever  yours, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Boston,  Nov.  2ith,  1810. 

*  *  *  After  a  scene  of  ceaseless  distraction  for  a  year 
and  a  half,  which  has  been  principally  owing,  as  I  now  per- 
ceive, to  my  own  pride  and  idolatry,  I  am  quietly  housed  for 
the  winter,  with  my  family,  in  the  family  of  one  of  our  con- 
gregation, as  boarders ;  having  obtained  from  Andover  a  dis- 
pensation to  enable  me  to  devote  my  whole  time  to  the  con- 
gregation for  four  months.  Having  now  but  one  world  upon 
me,  and  being  exempt  from  family  cares,  I  am  enabled,  with- 
out distraction,  to  devote  my  whole  time  and  heart  to  my  fa- 
vorite employment,  the  labors  of  the  parish.  Last  winter  was 
spent  in  preparing  the  way  for  this,  rather  than  in  doing  any 
thing.  I  think  there  is  a  change  for  the  better  in  our  church. 
They  seem  to  be  getting  the  better  of  their  two  great  sins, 
pride  and  dependance  upon  man.  A  succession  of  disappoint- 
ments and  trials  has,  I  think,  been  the  means  of  humbling 
them.  A  number  are  earnestly  praying  for  a  revival  of  reli- 
gion, and  are  even  strongly  expecting  it.  Our  meetings  are 
becoming  more  solemn.  What  is  before  us  I  don't  know ; 
but  unless  God  speedily  interpose,  it  does  seem  as  though  the 
cause  must  be  given  up.  My  dear  brother,  pray  for  us,  and 
engage  our  dear  friends  in  Newark,  and  our  brethren  in  the 
neighborhood,  (to  all  whom  I  send  my  love,)  to  pray  for  us. 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  119 

It  is  a  momentous  crisis  in  our  affairs.     God  only  can  deliver 
us. 

No  answer  yet  from  Dr.  Nott.  But  persons  who  have  lately 
seen  him  say,  as  I  have  always  helieved,  that  he  will  not 
come.  He  is  himself  confident  that  his  health  will  not  admit 
of  it.  What  then  is  to  be  done  ?  I  have  at  length  made  up 
my  mind  that  I  cannot,  after  this  winter,  be  connected  with 
two  worlds.  This  is  the  firm  conviction  of  myself,  of  Mrs. 
G.  and  of  all  my  friends  both  at  Andover  and  Boston.  The 
thing  then  is  settled,  and  understood,  and  is  what  all  sides 
will  agree  to.  If  then  a  young  man  is  settled  in  Park-street, 
he  must  stand  alone  and  unsupported.  Will  this  do?  Who 
of  you  all  will  come  to  Park-street?  If  no  body  else  will, 
must  I  come  ?  Pray  converse  with  some  of  our  friends  in 
Newark,  and  our  brethren  around  about,  and  give  me  your 
best  advice.  As  soon  as  I  get  time,  I  intend  to  write  to  Mr. 
Boudinot,  Mr.  Crane,  &c.  to  whom,  and  to  all  other  special 
friends  give  my  love  as  though  they  were  named.  Mrs.  G. 
joins  in  kindest  love  to  you  and  Mrs.  Richards ;  with,  dear 

brother, 

Yours,  most  affectionately, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

The  clergyman  to  whom  Park-street  church  gave 
'their  first  call  was  Doctor  Henry  Kollock  of  Sa- 
vannah, well  known  as  having  been  one  of  the  most 
eloquent  preachers  which  this  country  has  pro- 
duced. He,  however,  after  having  had  it  for  a  con- 
siderable time  under  consideration,  declined  it  in 
September,  1809 ;  and  immediately  after  Doctor  G. 
was  unanimously  chosen  to  the  same  place,  with 
the  assurance  of  as  large  a  salary  as  was  paid  to 
any  congregational  minister  in  Boston.  As  he  hap- 
pened to  be  present  when  the  call  was  made  out,  he 
stated  on  the  spot  that  there  were  many  reasons 
why  his  acceptance  of  it  was  quite  out  of  the  ques- 


120  RESIDENCE    AT 

tion ;  the  most  important  one  of  which  no  doubt 
was,  that  he  felt  himself  at  that  time  bound  to  the 
Theological  Seminary.  Subsequently,  however,  as 
appears  from  the  preceding  letter,  his  views  of  duty 
on  this  subject  gradually  underwent  a  change ;  and 
after  he  had  temporarily  intermitted  his  labors  at 
the  seminary  that  he  might  devote  himself  solely 
to  the  interests  of  the  congregation,  and  after  they 
had  extended  their  call  to  several  distinguished  in- 
dividuals, and  in  each  case  had  received  a  negative 
answer,  they  unanimously  renewed  their  call  to 
him,  Feb.  1,  1811,  under  circumstances  which  led 
him  to  think  that  possibly  the  indications  of  Provi- 
dence were  in  favor  of  his  acceptance  of  it.  Al- 
most immediately  after  this  became  known  to  the 
students  of  the  institution,  they  addressed  him  the 
following  letter,  expressive  of  their  warm  attach- 
ment, and  of  their  strong  desire  that  he  might  re- 
tain his  connexion  with  the  seminary. 

DiviJiity  College,  March  28th,  1811. 
Rev.  and  Dear  Sir: 

We  have  been  informed  that  you  find  it  impracticable  to 
discharge  the  duties  of  your  professorship  in  this  institution, 
and  those  which  result  from  your  connexion  with  the  church 
and  congregation  in  Boston.  We  have  also  been  informed, 
that  they  have  recently  given  you  a  unanimous  and  pressing 
call,  to  become  their  pastor.  And  apprehending  that,  from 
these  conflicting  claims,  there  is  a  possibility  of  your  dissolv- 
ing the  connexion  \vhich  you  sustain  with  this  institution ; 
we  take  the  liberty,  Dear  Sir,  to  express  to  you  our  feelings  and 
wishes  on  this  subject.  Although  we  feel  deeply  concerned  in 
the  interests  of  that  congregation,  and  view  its  prosperity  of 
great  importance,  still,  in  our  estimation,  the  religious  inte- 
rests connected  with  this  seminary,  are  of  such  an  extent, 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  121 

as  to  furnish  a  superior  claim  to  your  attention  and  services. 
We  are  impressed,  Sir,  with  the  belief  that,  should  you  leave 
us,  our  loss  would  be  great,  if  not  irreparable.  Under  the  in- 
fluence of  these  considerations,  we  earnestly  request  you,  for 
our  personal  benefit,  for  the  general  good  of  this  sacred  insti- 
tution, and  for  the  momentous  interests  of  the  church,  to  con- 
tinue the  relation  which  you  sustain  to  us.  Be  assured,  Sir, 
that  we  shall  feel  it  a  great  privation,  to  lose  the  privilege  of 
looking  to  you,  in  connexion  with  your  colleagues,  as  our  fa- 
ther and  our  friend. 

Presuming  that  you  will  take  into  due  consideration  these 
our  unanimous  suggestions,  and  wishing  you  the  best  conso- 
lations which  religion  affords,  we  subscribe  ourselves  in  behalf 
of  our  brethren,  your  obedient  servants 

T.  WOODBRIDGE, 
A.  NASH, 
D.  SMITH, 

College  Committee. 

To  which  Doctor  Griffin  returned  the  follow- 
ing answer. 

Divinity  College,  March  29,  1811. 
Gentlemen, 

Your  affectionate  letter  gave  me  all  the  pleasure  which 
you  intended.  I  am  gratified  to  find  that  my  official  services 
are  regarded  with  so  much  kindness  by  the  members  of  the 
college ;  and  am  affected  with  the  obliging  expression  of  their 
v.'ishes  for  my  happiness.  I  thank  you,  Gentlemen,  for  the 
delicate  manner  in  which  these  sentiments  have  been  con- 
veyed to  me;  and,  through  you,  I  present  my  acknowledg- 
ments to  all  the  young  gentlemen  of  the  Institution.  The 
confidence  and  the  wishes  which  they  have  expressed  are  cer- 
tainly entitled  to  much  attention,  and  will  be  duly  considered 
in  the  estimate  of  reasons  which  are  to  influence  my  decision. 
Under  the  pressing  and  contending  claims  of  the  two  objects, 
I  feel  it  my  duty  to  ask  them  to  carry  the  subject  to  the  throne 
Vol.  I.  16 


122  RESIDENCE    AT 

of  grace,  and  to  be  earnest  in  their  supplications  that  I  may 
know  the  will  of  God.  If  the  result  should  not  be  such  as 
they  desire,  it  will  be  owing  to  the  necessities  of  an  important 
church,  and  not  to  any  indifference  to  their  improvement  and 
happiness.     I  am,  gentlemen, 

Very  affectionately  yours, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

In  a  letter  to  Doctor  Richards,  dated  April  16, 
1811,  Dr.  G.  writes  thus: — "  Since  I  wrote  last  I 
have  learned  that  the  young  men  in  the  college 
have  unanimously,  as  they  state,  made  an  address 
to  Mr.  Bartlett,  praying  him  to  press  me  still 
further  to  continue  here.  The  feelings  of  the  young 
men,  and  the  friendship  of  Mr.  Bartlett,  have 
produced  some  conflict  in  my  mind ;  but  I  still  be- 
lieve that  the  providence  of  God  points  me  to  Bos- 
ton." Accordingly,  in  a  communication  dated  May 
1,  he  signified  his  acceptance  of  the  call,  and  was 
installed  pastor  of  the  church,  July  31,  1811,  by  an 
ecclesiastical  council  of  Congregational  ministers 
and  delegates  from  the  vicinity  of  Boston ;  having 
previously  received  a  dismission  from  the  Presby- 
tery to  which  he  belonged,  and  a  recommendation 
to  the  Union  Association  of  Boston  and  vicinity. 
The  sermon  on  the  occasion  was  preached  by  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Worcester,  of  Salem. 

The  following  letter  to  his  brother,  George 
Griffin,  Esq.  shows  what  were  the  prevailing  con- 
siderations that  influenced  him  in  his  ultimate  re- 
moval from  Andover  to  Boston. 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  123 

Boston,  Api-il29th,  1811. 

After  being  tossed  for  two  years,  and  kept  in  a  state  of 
restlessness,  without  a  home,  and  crushed  with  the  cares  of 
Andover  and  Boston  united,  I  have  at  last  found  a  home,  a 
place  of  rest,  as  far  as  this  world  can  afford  one.  I  have  re- 
signed my  office  at  Andover,  and  am  here  with  my  family. 
On  the  first  day  of  May  I  expect  to  move  into  a  pleasant 
house,  in  a  delightful  part  of  the  town. 

Such  were  the  perishing  necessities  of  this  congregation, 
which  presents  a  stand  the  most  important,  as  has  repeatedly 
been  said,  of  any  in  Christendom,  that  the  friends  of  the  col- 
lege are  not  displeased  with  the  step  I  have  taken.  The 
young  gentlemen  in  the  college,  of  which  there  are  about  50, 
made  a  strong  effort  to  retain  me.  They  presented  to  me  an 
affectionate  and  "  unanimous"  address,  requesting  me  to  stay : 
and  not  content  with  this,  they  wrote  to  Mr.  Bartlett,  request- 
ing him  to  use  further  exertions  for  the  purpose.  But  they 
submit  without  any  hard  thoughts  since  they  know  my  deter- 
mination.    I  left  Andover  last  week. 

This  congregation  were  pressed  with  a  debt  of  about  $'30,000, 
which  they  had  contracted  for  their  house.  They  could  not 
sell  their  pews,  for  want  of  a  minister ;  and  they  could  not 
much  longer  bear  up  under  the  debt.  They  were  discouraged 
by  repeated  disappointments  in  their  attempts  to  obtain  a  pas- 
tor, and  were  determined  to  look  no  further.  If  I  did  not 
come,  they  declared  that  they  must  sell  their  house,  and  dis- 
band :  and  the  fall  of  this  congregation  would- have  spread  de- 
struction far  and  wide.  But  if  I  would  come,  individuals 
stood  ready  to  assume  the  debt,  and  secure  the  meeting-house, 
which  was  mortgaged,  from  hazard  of  being  sold  to  Socini- 
ans.  This  has  been  done.  The  debt  is  discharged ;  and  the 
congregation  is  in  a  fair  way  to  live  and  increase.  The  house 
is  thronged  on  Sabbath  evening.  If  God  be  for  us,  who  can 
be  against  us  ? 

Last  fall  and  winter  the  enemy  did  all  in  their  power  to  de 
stroy  the  congregation  and  me.     But,  blessed  be  God  !  we  yet 


124  RESIDENCE    AT 

live,  and  live  uninjured.  The  storm  is  past,  and  the  tide 
seems  now  to  be  strongly  turning  in  our  favor.  We  feel  no 
alarm.  What  trials  may  await  us  wc  leave  to  God,  who,  as 
he  has  done,  can  carry  us  safely  through  ;  and  he  can  bring 
us  to  his  heavenly  kingdom.  Fanny  and  the  children  are 
well,  and  join  me  in  love  to  you  and  yours. 
Your  affectionate  brother, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  RICHARDS. 

Boston,  Sept.  Uth,  1811. 
*****  God  is  appearing  for  brother  Huntington's 
support.  There  is  evidently  a  work  of  grace  beginning 
among  his  people.  His  old  praying  women,  who  belonged  to 
Whitefield's  da}'-,  say  that  so  good  appearances  have  not  been 
seen  in  Boston  since  1771.  But  our  church  is  still  dead,  and 
still  looking  to  an  arm  of  flesh.  We  have  not  got  enough 
yet.  We  shall  have  to  receive  more  scourging  before  we  shall 
be  fit  for  any  work.  Of  all  creatures,  some  of  us  seemed  the 
most  unlikely  to  be  selected  to  make  such  a  stand  in  Boston. 
Whether  the  selection  was  of  God  or  man,  time  nmst  deter- 
mine.    Pray  for  us.  E.  D.  G. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Bosto7i,  Ajjril  22d,  1812. 
My  Dear  Brother, 

Your  favor  of  Feb.  3d  has  lain  by  me  a  long  time,  for 
reasons  that  every  minister  can  guess,  when  he  looks  at  his 
parish.  But,  my  beloved  brother,  my  heart  is  often  with  you. 
You  are  among  the  few  friends  on  earth  whom  I  love  without 
any  ifs  or  Hits.  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  by  Mr.  Sanford,  who 
called  upon  me  this  morning,  that  appearances  are  more  fa- 
vorable among  you.  I  rejoice  for  your  sake,  as  well  as  for 
more  general  reasons.  You  went  to  Newark  at  the  close  of  a 
great  revival.  The  thing  was  done,  and  could  not  be  conti- 
nued. I  had  the  privilege  of  being  there  in  harvest  time ; 
and  you  came  in  the  fall  of  the  year ;  a  winter  followed  of 
course ;  but  a  spring  you  will  see,  and  then  a  harvest.   "  They 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  125 

that  sow  in  tears  shall  reap  in  joy.  He  that  goeth  forth  and 
weepeth,  bearing  precious  seed,  shall  doubtless  come  again 
with  rejoicing,  bringing  his  sheaves  with  him."  May  the 
Lord  make  you  the  father  of  many  spiritual  children  in  that 
dear  section  of  the  great  family  ! 

I  find  it  not  in  my  power  to  visit  Newark  this  spring ;  but, 
God  willing,  I  firmly  intend  to  bring  Mrs.  G.  next  spring. 
I  cannot  leave  my  people  so  long  at  present.  There  are  some 
appearances  which  I  must  stay  at  home  to  watch.  The  lat- 
ter part  of  February  I  was  so  much  encouraged  that  I  insti- 
tuted a  conference  exclusively  for  persons  under  serious  im- 
pressions. Precisely  thirty  have  attended;  four  or  five  of 
whom,  I  trust,  have  become  real  christians.  1  have  conversed 
with  some  others  out  of  doors  whose  minds  are  tender.  Our 
meetings  generally  are  certainly  more  solemn  than  they  were. 
But  the  church,  with  a  few  exceptions,  are  still  asleep.  We 
expect  to  admit  twelve  new  members,  (with,  and  without  cer- 
tificates,) at  our  next  sacrament.  We  admitted  twenty-seven 
the  last  year,  from  the  first  of  March  to  the  first  of  March, 
Brother,  pray  for  us. 

I  have  had  very  affecting  news  lately  from  my  brother  in 
New- York.  He  and  his  friends  believe  him  to  have  become 
a  subject  of  grace.  I  know  you  will  rejoice  with  me,  and  help 
me  praise  the  Lord  for  his  great  goodness.  I  hope  my  brother 
may  be  of  some  little  service  to  the  common  cause  in  this-  day 
of  agitation  in  that  city.  What  are  they  doing  ?  What  aileth 
them?  Who  has  stirred  up  all  this  strife?  Do  av rite  me  all 
about  it.  The  whole  camp  appears  to  be  alarmed.  There 
certainly  is  fear,  combined  with  some  rancor.  ***** 
*  *  Is  the  land  of  Jersey  shaken  with  the  earthquake? 
Do  the  steeples  of  Newark  totter  ?  *  *  *  Is  your  head 
upon  your  shoulders  ?  How  is  dear  brother  Hillyer  ?  I  long  to 
have  a  long  brotherly  letter  from  him,  and  to  see  him  in  Bos- 
ton. Give  my  very  particular  love  to  him,  and  tell  him  all  this. 
Mrs.  G.  joins  in  most  affectionate  remembrance  to  Mrs.  Rich- 
ards and  yourself,  with  your  friend  and  brother, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 


126  RESIDENCE    AT 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Boston,  May  2d,  1812. 
My  Dear  Brother, 

Having  written  to  you  so  lately,  I  have  nothing  new  to 
write.  But  I  cannot  let  so  favorable  an  opportunity  pass  with- 
out dropping  you  a  line — perhaps  a  sheet  full. 

I  rejoice  exceedingly  to  hear  of  the  favorable  symptoms  in 
some  of  your  towns,  and  in  New- York.  I  hope  strongly  that 
the  God  of  1802  and  1807  will  make  1812  (the  space  of  five 
years  in  both  cases)  a  day  of  his  power  in  those  twenty  con- 
gregations. Is  it  not  just  the  time,  my  dear  brother,  to  revive 
your  preaching  tours  ?  God  has  blessed  them  twice  ;  may  he 
not  bless  them  the  third  time  1 

In  regard  to  us,  things  remain  much  as  when  I  wrote  last. 
Thirty-four  have  attended  our  Tuesday  evening  conference, 
under  serious  impressions ;  but  the  church,  with  few  excep- 
tions, are  still  asleep.  Our  congregation,  gathered  from  all 
parts,  with  habits  formed  under  cold  preaching,  present  a  cold 
spectacle,  much  unlike  the  congregation  of  Newark,  They 
must  be  melted  down  into  one  mass  by  an  electric  shock  from 
heaven.     God  send  the  shock  in  his  own  time  ! 

I  thank  you  for  the  notice  you  take  of  my  dear  brother's 
case.  It  has  affected  me  most  deeply,  as  you  may  well  sup- 
pose. I  wish  you  could  see  him  some  time  when  you  are  in 
New- York.  He  needs  help  from  you.  I  wish  he  may  be 
thoroughly  grounded  and  settled  in  the  truth,  and  lend  his  aid 
to  support  orthodoxy  in  this  day  of  agitation.      *     *     *     * 

"f  *  *  *  I  have  lately  become  one  of  the  overseers  of 
Cambridge  College.  About  the  time  of  my  coming  here  the 
Socinians  got  a  law  passed  by  our  Assembly  to  exclude  the 
Senate  from  the  board,  except  the  President,  (under  pretence 
of  keeping  out  democracy,)  to  disfranchise  the  six  towns, 
whose  ministers  were  ex  officio  members  of  the  board,  and  to 
give  power  to  the  board  to  fill  up  its  own  vacancies.  The 
chief  object  probably  was  to  keep  out  those  orthodox  ministers 
who  might,  in  this  turn  of  times,  be  settled  in  said  towns. 
Last  winter  the  democratic  Assembly  repealed  the  law,  in  their 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  127 

own  vindication,  and  Mr.  Thacher  and  I  rode  in  upon  their 
shoulders.     I  hope  I  never  may  have  a  worse  horse  ! 

Mrs.  G.  joins  in  most  affectionate  regards  to  Mrs.  Richards 
and  yourself,  with,  dear  Sir, 

Your  cordial  friend  and  brother, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Written  immediately  after  hearing  the  melancho- 
ly tidings  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Gumming,  wife  of 
Rev.  Hooper  Gumming,  who  was  instantly  killed 
by  being  precipitated  down  the  falls  of  the  Pasaick. 

Boston,  July  1st,  1812. 
My  Dear  Brother, 

I  received  your  letter  of  last  week  and  read  it  with  such  sen- 
sations as  you  can  easily  imagine.  The  dreadful  account  had 
reached  us  before.  I  immediately  wrote  what  I  could  to  our 
poor  afflicted  friend.  The  mysterious  dispensation  has  pro- 
duced a  strong  impression  here.  Your  letter  has  been  read  to 
numbers  ;  it  has  been  borrowed  and  carried  out  of  the  house ; 
a  copy  of  it  is  now  taking  by  an  aunt  of  Mrs.  Gumming. 
Many  tears  have  flowed,  and  many  prayers  have  ascended 
for  the  bereaved  husband.  How  mysterious  are  the  dispensa- 
tions of  providence !  We  must  bow  ourselves  to  the  earth, 
and  say,  His  ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  nor  his  thoughts  as 
our  thoughts.  What  a  comfort  it  is,  amidst  the  confusions 
of  this  trying  Hfe,  to  know  that  infinite  wisdom  keeps  the 
throne,  and  well  knows  what  he  is  doing  !  The  sea  may 
rage,  our  shattered  bark,  amidst  the  darkness  of  night,  may 
rise  to  the  clouds,  and  plunge  to  the  centre,  but  our  Pilot  is  at 
helm.  Were  it  not  for  that,  we  should  never  hope  to  see 
morning  more.  But  with  that  protection  we  shall  ride  safely 
through  the  rage  of  elements,  and  the  confusions  of  a  dis- 
jointed world,  and  enter  a  haven  secluded  from  the  storms. 
It  was  never  a  matter  of  more  joy  than  at  the  present  moment 
that  the  Lord  God  omni|X)tent  reigneth. 


128  RESIDENCE    AT 

I  pray,  and  even  hope,  that  this  distressing  event  will  be 
the  means  of  a  glorious  revival  of  religion  in  Newark.  Tell 
the  people  that  they  must  not  let  it  pass  without  such  an  issue. 
It  is  a  call  to  every  man,  woman  and  child  in  the  town,  right 
from  the  mouth  of  God,  as  loud  as  any  that  will  ever  be  heard, 
perhaps,  before  the  last  trumpet.  They  must  listen,  or,  (I 
had  almost  said,)  they  are  all  dead  men.  This  is  the  mo- 
ment too,  for  christians  to  lie  on  then  faces  before  the  God 
who  is  passing  by — the  very  moment  to  cry  to  him  with 
groanings  that  cannot  be  resisted — to  carry  out  all  their  child- 
ren from  their  houses,  and  lay  them  in  the  street  before  the 
awful  Majesty  that  is  passing  by.  O  may  the  whole  town 
stand  and  bow  before  him,  and  hear  not  his  voice  in  vain  !  *  * 

*  *  *  *  Mrs.  G.  and  myself  have  just  returned  from  a 
journey  to  Connecticut.  God  is  pouring  out  his  Spirit  in  sun- 
dry places  in  that  state  and  in  this.  I  hope  to  hear  good  tid- 
ings from  Newark.  Nothing  very  different  here.  Mrs.  G. 
joins  in  every  sentiment  of  love  and  kindness  to  Mrs.  R.  and 
yourself,  with  your  affectionate  brother. 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

In  the  winter  of  1812-1813,  Doctor  Griffin  deli- 
vered his  Park-street  lectures,  on  successive  sabbath 
evenings,  to  a  crowded  audience  collected  from  all 
classes  of  society.  These  lectures  awakened  the 
deepest  attention  both  of  friends  and  foes ;  and  it  is 
hardly  necessary  to  say  that  they  have  passed 
through  several  editions,  and  have  long  since  taken 
a  prominent  place  among  the  standard  theological 
works  of  our  country. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  RICHARDS. 

Boston^  August  23d,  1813. 
My  Dear  Brother, 

I  owe  you  many  apologies  for  my  long  silence  ;  but  either 
I  have  more  to  do  than  ever  I  had  before,  or  else  I  become 
slower  in  my  motions  as  age  increases.    I  do  not  get  time  to 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  l29 

write  to  my  friends.  I  have  scarcely  written  a  letter  for  nine 
months  till  very  lately, 

I  have  rejoiced,  my  brother,  in  all  the  mercy  and  truth 
with  which  God  has  visited  you,  and  the  dear  people  of  your 
charge.  I  cannot  be  indifferent  to  any  thing  that  is  calculated 
to  make  either  you  or  them  happy,  and  least  of  all  to  so  glo- 
rious a  scene  as  this.  May  the  work  increase,  and  extend, 
and  nev^er  cease. 

I  rejoice  to  hear  of  the  strong  and  increasing  attachment  of 
your  congregation  to  their  pastor.  I  hope  you  and  dear  Mrs. 
Richards  by  this  time  feel  yourselves  at  home,  and  that  you 
both  and  your  children  will  continue  to  enjoy  all  the  happi- 
ness which  this  poor  world  can  give,  and  all  the  happiness 
which  can  be  found  in  a  covenant  God.       ***** 

*  *  *  *  Our  affairs  here  go  on  pretty  much  in  the  old 
way.  The  small  degree  of  divine  influence  with  which  we 
have  been  favored,  has  brought  ninety- one  persons  to  our  in- 
quiring meeting,  within  a  year  and  a  half;  thirty-nine  of 
whom  have  come  in  since  the  first  of  December.  About  that 
time  a  new  momentum  was  given  to  the  thing  which  is  not 
yet  altogether  spent.  Sabbath  after  next  I  expect  to  admit  to 
the  church  eleven  persons  from  the  world.  Still  there  are  trials 
and  discouragements  which  sometimes  almost  tempt  me  to 
give  out.  Boston  folks  will  be  Boston  folks  still.  They  will 
not  retrench  a  habit,  nor  lose  a  nap  at  church,  to  save  their 
Uves.  Had  I  known  as  much  as  I  now  do,  I  never  would 
have  left  the  Presbyterian  world  ;  and  if  my  conscience  would 
suffer  me,  I  would  enter  it  again  as  soon  as  I  could.     *      * 

*  *  *  Y^Q  g^j-g  jjj  peace,  but  a  peace  attended  with  more 
stupidity  than  comfort.     I  am  afraid  to  say  any  more. 

Excuse  my  haste.  I  have  many  letters  to  write.  Mrs.  G. 
joins  in  most  affectionate  regards  to  Mrs.  Richards,  and  your- 
self, and  the  children,  with,  dear  Sir, 

Your  friend  and  brother, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 
Vol.  I.  17 


130  RESIDENCE    AT 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Boston,  Ajml  I2th,  1814. 
*  *  *  *  I  have  no  good  news  to  communicate  respect- 
ing our  affairs  in  Boston.  It  does  not  please  the  Head  of  the 
Church  to  refresh  us  with  his  influence,  and  we  all  remain  as 
cold  and  hard  as  rocks.  I  am  afraid  to  come  among  you  in 
such  a  day  as  this,  lest  I  should  serve,  with  what  little  influ- 
ence 1  have,  to  chill  you.  But  I  need  to  be  warmed,  though 
it  be  at  your  expense. 

I  am,  my  dear  brother, 

Most  affectionately  yours, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

TO  HIS  DAUGHTER  FRANCES  LOUISA. 

Boston,  July  25th,  1814. 
My  dear  Daughter, 

Before  this  time  you  have  received  "The  Memoirs  of 
Mrs.  Newell,"  which  your  mother  sent  you.  It  is  my  earnest 
desire,  and  parental  injunction,  that  you  read  that  book  through 
at  least  twice  in  the  course  of  the  summer  and  autumn,  that 
you  draw  the  example  there  set  clearly  before  your  eyes,  and 
give  the  most  earnest  diligence  and  care  to  copy  it  in  your 
heart  and  life.  I  wish  you,  in  short,  to  set  up  that  blessed 
woman  for  your  model,  both  in  respect  to  her  early,  ardent, 
self-denying  piety,  and  to  the  modesty,  sweetness,  delicacy,  af- 
fection, and  attention  to  the  feelings  of  others,  which  marked 
her  social  character.  Providence  has  raised  her  up  at  your 
own  door,  in  the  midst  of  the  circle  in  which  your  father 
moves,  and  given  our  family,  as  connected  with  the  mission 
in  which  she  displayed  her  brightest  lustre,  a  sort  of  property 
in  her  character.  The  whole  of  that  property  I  bequeath  to 
you.  Take  her  for  your  own,  and  ingraft  all  her  excellencies 
upon  your  own  character.  How  often  have  I  said,  with  all 
the  tender  commotion  of  a  parent's  heart,  "  Oh,  let  that  cha- 
racter be  my  Louisa's !" 

Mrs.  Newell  was  younger  than  you  are,  my  daughter,  when 
she  first  gave  herself  to  Christ.  She  could  place  her  heart  at 
rest  on  the  centre  of  her  soul,  her  Saviour's  bosom,  at  the  age 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  131 

of  thirteen;  and  where  are  your  affections  roving?  Are  you 
not  under  as  great  obligations  as  she  was?  I  wish  you  also 
to  look  at  the  womanly  sentiments  and  style  of  her  letters  and 
diary  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  and  often  compare  your  own  pro- 
gress with  hers.     Do  you  keep  a  diary  ? 

Your  main  attention  ought  to  be  paid  to  the  government  of 
your  temper.  That  is  an  enemy  which  you  must  bring  un- 
der early  and  learn  to  keep  in  steady  subjection,  or  it  will  ga- 
ther strength  as  you  advance,  till  it  becomes  too  strong  to  be 
controlled.  And  when  it  has  once  established  an  ascendancy, 
farewell  to  peace,  farewell  to  the  good  will  of  others,  and,  with- 
out almost  a  miracle,  farewell  to  salvation.  You  must  get  it 
completely  in  your  power  while  you  are  young,  and  accustom 
it  to  obey,  or  calculate  on  a  wretched  old  age.  Establish, 
then,  the  rule  of  bringing  its  motions  each  day  to  a  rigid  exa- 
mination at  night ;  and  never  sleep  till  you  have  mourned  be- 
fore God  for  its  irregularities  that  day,  and  implored  strength 
to  curb  it  for  time  to  come.  But  you  must  go  deeper  still. 
The  root  of  the  evil  lies  in  a  selfish  spirit,  which  nothing  can 
cure  but  that  love  to  God  and  man  which  constitutes  the  es- 
sence of  all  rehgion.  In  religion,  then,  you  must  seek  the  only 
effectual  remedy.  Oh,  my  daughter,  look  to  Christ  for  this. 
Cry  to  him  mightily  ;  cry  to  him  day  and  night. 

Next  to  the  government  of  your  temper,  you  must  culti- 
vate an  obliging  disposition  towards  all.  In  things  where  you 
may,  learn  to  subject  your  wishes  to  the  wishes  of  others,  to 
prefer  their  gratification  to  your  own.  This  is  the  essence  of 
true  politeness;  and  if  prompted  by  proper  motives,  is  an  es- 
sential part  of  true  religion.  I  must  remind  you  also  to  avoid 
two  things  utterly  repugnant  to  female  loveliness.  I  mean  an 
independent  carriage  and  too  great  forwardness.  A  benevo- 
lent regard  to  the  feelings,  and  a  modest  deference  to  the  cha- 
racters of  others,  will  cure  both  of  these  evils.  But  I  would 
have  you  distinguish  between  modesty  and  bashfulness.  The 
former  is  the  loveliest  trait  of  female  beauty  ;  the  latter  turns , 
every  thing  into  awkward  deformity. 

*     *     *     *     My  dear  daughter,  you  are  no  longer  a  child, 


132  RESIDENCE    AT 

but  of  the  age  when  Mrs.  Newell  was  exhibiting  a  character 
to  be  the  model  of  future  generations. 

*  *  *  *  We  were  sorry  to  hear  that  you  are  learning 
to  play  without  using  your  voice.  We  must  utterly  protest 
against  this.  We  believe  you  can  sing ;  but  if  we  are  mista- 
ken in  this,  we  wish  you  to  take  no  more  lessons  in  music. 

Let  me  hear,  from  time  to  time,  what  books  you  read  at 
your  leisure  hours.  Some,  adapted  to  enlarge  your  stock  of 
ideas,  and  to  improve  your  taste,  should  make  a  part  of  the 
objects  of  your  attention  every  week. 

I  wish  you  to  pay  all  due  attention  to .     It  will  be  a 

sufficient  argument,  I  hope,  with  you,  that  she  is  unfortunate. 
Let  me  be  informed  on  this  point. 

Your  affectionate  father, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

The  following  record  of  the  deaths  of  Doctor 
Griffin's  parents,  &;c.  was  made  by  him  in  1832. 

While  I  was  in  Boston  in  March,  1814,  I  was  summoned 
to  the  sick  bed  of  my  dear  mother,  who,  for  many  years  had 
had  the  consumption.  She  died  in  my  arms  at  nine  o'clock 
on  sabbath  evening,  April  3,  1814,  aged  81.  My  honored 
father  died  the  6th  of  August  following,  aged  80.  Of  my 
four  grand-parents,  and  two  parents,  all  surpassed  the  age  of 
80,  except  my  grandfather  Dorr,  and  he  nearly  reached  that 
age.  To  this  day,  when  I  am  more  than  62  years  old,  I 
have  never  lost  a  brother  nor  sister,  wife  nor  child,  and  the 
youngest  of  eight  children  of  my  parents  is  now  more  than  54 
years  old.     Thus  has  the  mercy  of  God  dealt  with  us. 

TO  HIS  BROTHER  GEORGE. 

Boston,  August  2\st,  1814. 
Dear  Brother, 

Before  this  reaches  you,  you  will  have  heard  that  our 
dear  father  is  no  more.  We  have  no  more  a  parent  on  earth; 
and  soon  we  ourselves  shall  be  numbered  with  the  congrega- 
tion of  the  dead.     And  what  then  if  we  are  deceived !  And 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  133 

is  it  not  possible  that  we  may  be?  -'The  heart  is  deceitful 
above  all  things  and  desperately  wicked  :  who  can  know  it  ?" 
There  are  a  thousand  ways  to  get  wrong,  and  one  only  to  get 
right.  The  two  most  conspicuous  fruits  and  evidences  of  re- 
ligion, are  a  placid,  affectionate  spirit,  which  sweetens  and  rules 
our  native  tempers,  and  that  etherial  spirit  which  overcomes 
the  world.  1  Cor.  xiii.  James  i.  27.  1  John  ii.  15.  Would 
it  not  be  well,  my  dear  brother,  for  us  both  to  try  ourselves 
closely  by  these  two  tests,  as  exhibited  in  the  texts  referred  to? 
Religion  does  not  consist  in  a  form,  and  a  profession,  nor  in 
going  to  church  on  the  sabbath,  and  uttering  some  of  our 
opinions,  and  having  certain  frames ;  but  in  possessing  and 
acting  out  the  true  spirit  of  the  gospel,  which  is  love, — in  ris- 
ing from  under  the  supreme  dominion  of  selfishness  to  the  do- 
minion of  supreme  love  to  God  and  his  dear  Son.  Luke  xiv. 
26.  Mat.  vi.  24.  Men  are  judged  by  their  general  characters. 
1  John  iii.  15.  Unless  then  we  are  habitually  governed  by 
supreme  love  to  God,  we  are  nothing.  But  such  a  regent 
within  us  will  habitually  keep  down  those  angry  and  idola- 
trous passions  which  spring  from  selfishness.  If  these  prevail, 
we  are  the  slaves  of  selfishness  still.  Without,  therefore,  a 
dominant  spirit  of  love,  which  can  keep  our  tempers  habitual- 
ly calm,  and  produce  habitually  a  conscious  deadness  to  the 
world,  we  are  not  christians.  If  my  own  hope  wUl  not  bear 
this  test,  it  must  be  given  up. 

Thus  we  cannot  hope  to  live,  without  a  frequent  apphca- 
tion  of  the  means  of  grace.  And  if  the  world  is  put  under 
our  feet,  it  will  certainly  no  longer  keep  us  from  those  means 
which  are  necessary  for  the  nourishment  of  our  souls,  any 
more  than  from  those  meals  which  are  necessary  for  the  nou- 
rishment of  the  body.  Every  christian  ought  to  take  time 
from  the  world  to  attend  at  least  one  meeting  a  week,  besides 
on  the  sabbath.  I  wish,  my  dear  brother,  that  you  would 
adopt  this  rule,  and  inflexibly  abide  by  it,  let  the  world  go 
where  it  will.  I  know  what  you  can  say  on  the  subject,  but 
I  still  believe  that  you  ought  to  do  it,  and  that  it  is  your  hap- 
piness as  well  as  duty.  ****** 
Affectionately  your  brother,  E.  D.  G. 


134  RESIDENCE    AT 

Dr.  Griffin  continued  at  Park-street  till  the 
spring  of  1815,  when,  in  consequence  of  the  con- 
gregation having  become  embarrassed  by  means  of 
the  war,  and  withal  somewhat  divided  among  them- 
selves, he  accepted  an  invitation  to  return  to  New- 
ark as  pastor  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  church 
then  lately  rendered  vacant  by  the  dismission  of 
Mr.  Gumming.  He  seems  to  have  hesitated  for 
some  time  as  to  the  propriety  of  accepting  this  in- 
vitation, particularly  from  an  apprehension  that  his 
return  to  Newark  might  be  the  occasion  of  some 
embarrassment  to  his  successor  in  his  former  charge. 
The  two  following  letters,  which  he  addressed  to 
Dr.  Richards  in  relation  to  this  subject,  evince  a 
delicate  regard  to  the  circumstances  in  which  he 
was  called  to  act. 

Bostoti,  Feb.  2lst,  1815. 
My  Dear  Brother, 

I  was  delighted  to  hear  to-day  that  you  had  been  invited 
to  preside  at  the  meeting  last  Thursday.  This  augurs  well 
for  the  future  tranquillity  of  Newark.  Immediately  after  re- 
ceiving an  application,  about  twelve  weeks  ago,  I  inquired 
whether  it  would  give  offence  for  me  to  exchange  with  you, 
and  to  visit  my  old  friends  in  your  congregation ;  and  was  an- 
swered, that  it  would  be  acceptable  for  me  to  visit  my  old 
friends,  and  to  exchange  with  you  once  in  four  or  five  sab- 
baths. To  return  to  Newark  on  any  other  terms  than  to  be 
in  habits  of  unreserved  intimacy  and  love  with  one  of  my 
earliest  and  truest  friends,  and  with  his  beloved  church,  I 
could  not  consent.  And  if  I  thought  my  return  would  con- 
tribute any  influence  to  restore  harmony,  and  to  obliterate  all 
remembrance  of  the  past,  it  would  certainly  be  a  powerful  mo- 
tive. On  the  other  hand,  if  there  is,  as  was  hinted  to  me  by 
some  last  spring,  an  incurable  separation  between  the  two  con- 


ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON.  135 

gregations,  and  my  friends  down  town  would  look  upon  me 
as  one  who  had  come  to  take  part  against  them,  I  should  find 
myself  in  a  condition  truly  deplorable.  On  the  various  points 
connected  with  this  subject,  I  want  light,  and,  my  dear  bro- 
ther, I  want  light  from  you. 

When  I  resigned  my  charge  into  your  hands,  little  did  I  ex- 
pect to  return  and  take  part  with  you  in  your  ministry.  Nor 
do  I  yet  know  that  this  is  the  will  of  heaven.  Newark  has 
not  ceased  to  be  the  dearest  place  to  me  on  earth  ;  but  I  am 
not  my  own.  From  some  motions  of  divine  providence  I 
have  been  led  to  suppose  that  that  might  become  my  duty. 
And  if  it  is  my  duty,  I  can  freely  say  it  will  be  no  act  of  self- 
denial.  The  particular  circumstances  which  have  led  to  this 
way  of  thinking,  you  in  part  know,  and  will  know  more  fully 
when  I  have  the  pleasure  to  see  you.  In  the  mean  time  I  will 
thank  you  to  open  your  whole  heart  to  me,  and  to  pour  all  the 
light  you  can  upon  the  present  state  and  future  prospects  of 
Newark,  relative  to  the  points  referred  to  above.  Pray  let  me 
hear  from  you  soon.  I  expect  to  take  a  journey  early  in  March ; 
if  you  write  soon  I  shall  receive  your  letter  before  I  set  out. 

Mrs.  G.  joins  me  in  most  affectionate  salutations  to  Mrs, 
Richards,  and  yourseK,  and  to  the  whole  family. 
Your  friend  and  brother, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 
Rev.  J.  Richards. 

Boston,  April  I5th,  1815. 
My  Dear  Brother, 

I  received  your  fraternal  letter  of  the  28th  of  February,  on 
my  return  from  Connecticut  the  3rd  of  April,  and  thank  you 
for  your  frank  and  candid  remarks.  I  had  written,  before  my 
journey,  to  Mr.  Boudinot,  and  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  request- 
ed him  to  show  the  letter  to  you.  That  letter  will  have  con- 
vinced you  that  the  providence  of  God,  and  no  unreasonable 
fickleness,  or  despondency  in  me,  has  suggested  the  purpose  of 
my  return.  I  have  felt  unhappy  in  one  view  of  my  return. 
If  from  the  attachment  of  some  of  my  old  friends,  it  should 
operate  to  render  your  condition  any  less  pleasant,  it  would 


136  RESIDENCE    AT    ANDOVER    AND    BOSTON. 

distress  me,  not  only  from  my  long  continued  friendship  for 
you,  but  especially  because  I  was  instrumental  in  your  remo- 
val to  Newark.  It  will  be,  I  hope,  my  aim,  however,  to  ren- 
der your  situation  no  less  pleasant  than  it  was  when  you  first 
came,  and  have  no  doubt  of  reciprocal  friendship  from  you. 
And  with  such  a  union  as  has  always  subsisted  between  us, 
added  to  a  sufficient  degree  of  prudence,  I  hope  we  shall  pre- 
vail to  heal  all  the  divisions  which  now  exist.  I  believe  we 
shall.  There  are  really  no  rival  interests.  There  are  people 
and  property  enough  for  two  congregations,  and  I  hope  in  time 
to  see  a  third.  This  was  my  hope  before  I  concluded  to  leave 
the  town.  The  idea  of  ministering  to  the  whole  town  was  op- 
pressive and  overwhelming: 

*  *  *  Since  my  return  from  my  journey  to  Connecticut, 
I  have  applied  to  the  church  and  congregation  for  a  dismis- 
sion. Both  bodies  have  given  their  consent,  and  voted  to  con- 
tinue my  salary  till  the  last  of  May,  thougli  the  council  for  my 
dismission  should  be  sooner  convened.  After  this  consent  I 
consider  myself  at  liberty  to  announce  my  acceptance  of  the 
call.  I  will  therefore  thank  you  to  inform  the  presbytery  in 
my  name,  at  their  April  meeting,  that  I  consider  it  my  duty 
to  accept  the  call,  and  do  hereby  accept  it ;  and  pray  them  to 
appoint  a  time  for  my  installation,  as  soon  as  they,  and  the 
congregation  choose,  after  the  first  sabbath  in  June.  The  first 
sabbath  in  June  I  hope  to  be  in  Newark.  Mrs.  G.  joins  in  af- 
fectionate regards  to  Mrs.  R.  and  yourself  and  family. 
I  am,  my  dear  brother,  your  sincere  friend, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

Rev.  J.  Richards. 

Agreeably  to  the  intimation  contained  in  the  pre- 
ceding letter,  Doctor  Griffin's  resignation  of  his 
pastoral  charge  received  the  sanction  of  a  mutual 
council,  April  27,  1815 ;  though  he  continued  to 
officiate  as  pastor  till  the  last  sabbath  in  May.  He 
arrived  in  Newark  with  his  family  the  first  week  in 
June. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HIS  SECOND  RESIDENCE  AT  NEWARK. 

Doctor  Griffin  was  installed  pastor  of  the  se- 
cond Presbyterian  church  in  Newark,  June  20, 
1815. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  year  1816,  a  general  at- 
tention to  religion  commenced  in  both  congrega- 
tions in  Newark,  and  extended  to  several  of  the 
neighboring  towns.  During  this  revival  Dr.  G.  was 
abundant  in  his  labors,  and  was  privileged  in  due 
time  to  gather  in  a  precious  harvest. 

Under  date  of  March  27,  1817,  he  writes  in  his 
diary  as  follows : 

A  day  of  private  fasting  and  prayer  agreed  upon  by  both 
churches  in  the  town,  to  implore  the  continued  influences  of  the 
Divine  Spirit.  Having  of  late  years  entered  more  largely  into 
the  pubUc  business  of  the  church,  I  have  spent  too  httle  time 
in  my  closet,  and  in  consequence  find  that  it  is  not  so  easy  to- 
day to  fix  my  thoughts  in  these  private  exercises  as  it  formerly 
was.  It  is  my  desire  from  this  time  forth  to  return  to  the  more 
full  practice  of  private  devotion,  and  to  a  renewal  of  my  jour- 
nal. 

I  have  tried  the  world ;  1  have  been  too  much  devoted  to 
honor ;  but  I  found  it  all  vain.  Never  was  I  so  restless  and 
unhappy  as  when  most  elevated  in  view  of  the  world.    I  was 

Vol.  I.  18 


138  SECOND    RESIDENCE 

tired  of  such  public  life,  and  longed  to  retire.  I  have  retired, 
and  during  the  year  and  nine  months  which  I  have  spent 
here,  have  been  the  most  tranquil  that  I  ever  was  in  any  si- 
tuation. Convinced  by  experience  of  the  vanity  and  even  tor- 
ture of  worldly  distinction,  I  seem  to  have  given  up  all  desire 
for  it.  I  am  sure  I  would  not  exchange  my  present  seclusion 
for  any  more  public  sphere  that  could  be  offered  me.  My  tri- 
als, I  trust,  have  not  been  in  vain.  For  more  than  six  years 
past,  (the  former  part  of  which  was  the  most  trying  period  of 
my  life  )  I  think  I  have  been  enabled  to  obtain  an  ascendancy 
over  some  of  my  constitutional  sins.  If  I  do  not  deceive  my- 
self, I  have  of  late  years  become  more  conscientious  in  regu- 
lating my  feelings  towards  my  neighbors,  in  avoiding  resent- 
ments when  I  am  injured,  and  in  studying  the  things  which 
make  for  peace.  I  think  I  am  more  vigilant  against  the  colli- 
sions of  selfishness ;  less  bigoted  in  favor  of  a  party,  and  can 
more  truly  rejoice  in  the  advancement  of  religion  in  other  de- 
nominations around  me.  I  have  far  less  distressing  conflicts 
than  I  had  in  former  years.  At  the  same  time  I  have  far  less 
exalted  ideas  of  my  own  sanctification.  Some  things  are  cer- 
tainly improved  within  me,  and  yet  I  have  a  more  steady 
sense  of  ray  general  poverty  and  short  coming. 

Afternoon.  I  found  a  greater  sweetness  in  secret  prayer  than 
I  had  felt  for  years,  a  tenderness  and  enlargement  in  praying 
for  this  people  here,  our  sister  congregation  and  its  minister, 
my  late  church  in  Park-street,  my  friends  and  my  enemies 
generally  in  Massachusetts.  I  found  a  new  state  of  mind, 
and  discovered  that  some  displeasure  at  the  past  treatment  I 
had  received,  though  it  had  not  awakened  resentment,  had 
hardened  my  heart  against  old  acquaintance  and  caused  me 
to  find  little  pleasure  in  thinking  of  them.  But  now  I  felt  the 
cloud  all  removed,  and  wished  to  visit  them,  and  longed  for 
their  prosperity,  as  though  they  had  been  my  flesh  and  blood  ; 
and  in  regard  to  those  who  were  near,  my  heart  melted  over 
them,  and  it  was  my  earnest  prayer  that  this  day,  when  the 
christians  of  both  congregations  are  in  their  respective  closets, 
might  break  up  forever  whatever  selfish  jealousies  and  unkind 


AT    NEWARK.  139 

feelings  may  exist  between  the  two  sister  churches.  I  feared 
that  the  rough  treatment  I  had  met  with  from  the  world,  had 
soured  my  mind  towards  mankind,  and  that  my  love  of  re- 
tirement arose  partly  from  this  cause.  I  clearly  perceived  and 
felt  that  love  would  do  away  all  feelings  like  never  wishing  to 
have  any  more  connexion  with  a  particular  place.  Never, 
never  let  me  feel  this  again  toivards  any  'place  or  any  in- 
dividual. How  will  love  unite  us  to  all  and  every  one,  as  to 
our  dearest  child.  Scarcely  ever  had  I  a  cloud  taken  off  from 
the  whole  world  so  suddenly  and  so  sensibly.  I  felt  a  tender 
wish  to  write  to  acquaintances  in  different  places,  with  whom 
I  had  for  a  considerable  time  wished  to  have  no  further  inter- 
course. I  found  that  love  would  cure  at  once  all  past  troubles, 
and  sweep  them  from  the  world  as  though  they  had  never 
been;  and  that  if  I  could  continue  to  feel  so,  I  should  at  once 
be  restored  to  the  bright  skies  of  former  years,  before  the  storms 
arose.  I  perceived  that  the  most  effectual  way  to  get  the  bet- 
ter over  every  injury  was  to  forgive.  I  learned  to  prize  more 
than  ever  these  days  of  private  devotion,  for  I  found  that  this 
season  had  removed  wrong  impressions  which  had  rested  on 
my  mind  for  two  or  three  years,  which,  till  I  felt  the  change, 
I  had  not  perceived  were  wrong.     Let  me  not  fail  to 

KEEP    THESE    DAYS    OF    PRIVATE    DEVOTION. 

I  was  enabled  heartily  to  forgive  and  pray  for  all  men,  even 
those  who  had  wronged  me  most,  and  then  I  felt  that  the 
middle  wall  of  partition  which  had  been  long  between  Christ 
and  me,  was  taken  away.  I  had  forgiven  all,  and  then  he 
had,  as  it  would  seem,  forgiven  me.  While  I  held  them  off, 
unwilling  to  have  intercourse,  he  held  me  off,  unwilling  to 
have  intercourse.  I  had  not  hated  them  as  an  enemy,  and  he 
had  not  hated  me  as  an  enemy.  Just  the  measure  which  I 
meted  to  others,  he  meted  to  me.  I  never  felt  before  the  full 
amount,  in  this  respect,  of  that  petition,  "Forgive  us  our 
debts  as  we  forgive  our  debtors."  In  the  latter  part  of  the  af- 
ternoon my  mind  was  unusually  fixed  and  drawn  out  in 
prayer ;  and  all  my  prayers  were  directed  to  Christ.  The 
hymn,  "  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul,"  was  more  precious  to  me 


140  SECOND    RESIDENCE 

than  ever  it  was,  when  I  was  not  pressed  down  under  the  bur- 
den of  guilt.  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  for  his  restoring 
mercy, — for  removing  that  partition  wall  which  I  have  felt  for 
more  than  six  years.  O  may  I  walk  humbly  and  live  near  to 
him,  and  be  wholly  devoted  to  him  the  rest  of  my  hfe. 

During  this  second  period  of  Doctor  Griffin's 
residence  at  Newark,  besides  attending  with  exem- 
plary fidelity  to  all  the  duties  more  immediately 
connected  with  his  pastoral  charge,  he  devoted  him- 
self with  great  zeal  to  the  establishment  and  sup- 
port of  several  of  the  leading  benevolent  institutions 
of  the  day.  He  was  one  of  the  original  founders 
of  the  American  Bible  Society  ;  and  it  is  said  that 
when  their  address  to  the  public,  which  had  been 
prepared  by  Doctor  Mason,  was  first  read  in  his 
hearing,  he  turned  to  a  gentleman  sitting  next  to 
him,  and  said  with  great  emphasis,  "  That,  in  my 
opinion  is  the  finest  specimen  of  English  composi- 
tion that  has  been  produced  since  the  days  of  John- 
son." He  was  also  particularly  active  in  the  esta- 
blishment of  the  United  Foreign  Missionary  Socie- 
ty, and  in  promoting  the  interests  of  the  school  es- 
tablished by  the  Synod  of  New- York  and  New- 
Jersey  for  the  education  of  Africans.  To  this  lat- 
ter institution  perhaps  he  devoted  himself  with  more 
zeal  than  to  any  other ;  and  his  celebrated  "  Plea 
for  Africa,"  distinguished  alike  for  learning  and  elo- 
quence, shows  that  this  was  a  theme  to  wake  up 
his  finest  powers  and  his  strongest  sensibilities. 

It  was  also  during  this  period  of  his  ministry, 
(1817)  that  he  published  his  work  on  the  extent  of 
the  atonement.  As  this  is  almost  throughout  a 
work  of  pure  metaphysics,  it  were  not  to  be  ex- 


AT    NEWARK.  141 

pected  that  it  should  have  gained  so  extensive  a  cir- 
culation as  the  more  practical  and  popular  of  his 
productions ;  but  it  was  evidently  the  result  of  great 
intellectual  labor,  and  could  never  have  been  pro- 
duced but  by  a  mind  trained  to  the  highest  efforts 
of  abstraction. 

In  the  spring  of  1821,  Dr.  Griffin  received  an 
invitation  to  the  presidency  of  the  college  at  Dan- 
ville, Kentucky ;  and  as  his  health  at  the  time  was 
somewhat  enfeebled,  he  took  a  journey  into  that 
state,  but  ultimately  declined  the  offer.  On  his  re- 
turn he  visited  Cincinnati  in  Ohio,  and  subsequent- 
ly received  an  invitation  to  the  same  place  in  the 
college  in  that  city,  but  this  also  he  felt  himself  con- 
strained to  decline.  About  the  same  time  he  re- 
ceived a  similar  appointment  at  Williams  College ; 
and  owing  chiefly  to  some  unpropitious  circumstan- 
ces which  had  prevented  the  growth  of  his  congre- 
gation and  their  ability  to  continue  to  him  a  com- 
petent support,  he  determined  to  accept  this  ap- 
pointment. 


CUAPTER  VI. 

HIS  RESIDENCE  AT  WILLIAMSTOWN. 

f  Having  accepted  of  the  Presidency  of  Williams 
College,  Doctor  Griffin  left  Newark  with  his  fa- 
mily for  Williamstown  about  the  25th  October, 
1821.  Of  the  interesting  events  which  occurred 
in  connection  with  the  journey  and  subsequent  to 
it,  he  committed  to  writing  the  following  minute 
account  in  1830. 

Before  we  left  Newark,  my  eldest  daughter,  Louisa,  was  un- 
well. In  her  passage  up  the  river  she  became  worse.  We 
reached  Troy  on  Friday  morning,  October  26th,  1827,  where 
I  left  her  with  her  mother  at  a  boarding-house,  and  the  same 
night  reached  Wilhamstown  with  my  other  daughter,  Ellen. 
On  Monday,  October  29th,  having  obtained  teams  to  bring  out 
our  furniture,  1  returned  to  Troy,  and  found  an  apprehension 
in  the  attending  physicians  that  Louisa  was  exposed  to  the 
typhus  fever.  On  my  return  to  Williamstown  on  Wednes- 
day, October  31st,  I  found  Ellen  quite  sick.  It  proved  that 
she  had  taken  the  measles ;  and  before  they  could  appear,  a 
billious  fever  had  taken  possession  of  the  system  and  kept  the 
other  down.  And  as  the  first  yielded  to  medicine,  the  second, 
a  hidden  enemy  that  no  one  could  understand,  began  to  work. 
She  was  in  a  state  of  great  fluctuation,  but  mostly  of  danger, 
till  near  the  middle  of  December.  On  Monday,  the  10th  of 
December,  my  apprehensions  rose  the  highest,  but  they  were 


RESIDENCE    AT    WILLIAMSTOWN.  143 

relieved  before  I  went  after  my  family  the  next  morning.  And 
so  it  was  from  the  first  to  the  last ;  she  would  be  better,  and  I 
could  inform  her  mother  so ;  and  no  sooner  had  my  letter  gone 
than  she  would  be  taken  worse.  Her  mother  was  mercifully 
saved  from  a  knowledge  of  her  danger  till  she  reached  "Wil- 
hamstown,  and  I  sustained  the  burden  alone.  But  to  return. 
On  sabbath  morning,  November  4th,  while  I  sat  by  Ellen's 
bed,  more  anxious  for  her  than  for  Louisa,  I  received  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  Griffin,  begging  me  to  come  down  immediately  ere 
my  child  died,  and  to  bring  Ellen  with  me,  and  leave  her  at 
Dr.  Coe's.  As  I  arose  from  my  chair,  I  said,  unconsciously, 
"  The  Lord  reigneth;"  but  recollecting  myself,  and  fearing  to 
alarm  Ellen,  I  for  the  first  and  last  time  deceived  ray  child. 
I  assumed  a  smile,  and  kissed  her,  and  left  tire  room.  I  de- 
termined to  stay  and  ask  the  prayers  of  the  church,  and  go 
the  next  day.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Gridley  said  he  could  not  bear 
to  have  me  go  alone  and  offered  to  accompany  me.  At  Wads- 
worth's,  where  we  dined,  while  I  was  pacing  alone  before  the 
door,  reviewing  all  my  feelings  about  my  poor  child  before 
birth  and  at  the  time  of  her  birth,  and  my  manner  of  pray- 
ing for  her,  and  bringing  her  up,  I  said,  "  And  after  all  is  she 
to  die  in  this  state  of  insensibility?  Is  this  our  covenant  God?'' 
Something  seemed  to  say,  "  No,"  in  a  manner  which  soothed 
my  anguish.  About  eight  miles  this  side  of  Troy,  a  messen- 
ger met  us,  to  hasten  us  to  see  her  die.  I  remember  saying 
to  Mr.  Gridley  at  that  moment,  "  /  can  bear  all  this  and  a 
great  deal  more ;  but  O  that  poor  mother,  and  that  immortal 
soul !"  I  spent  the  eight  miles  in  praying  for  those  two  objects, 
and  in  language  sometimes  audible  to  my  sympathizing  friend. 
Mrs.  Griffin  had  no  knowledge  that  Ellen  was  sick,  and  I 
knew,  was  confidently  expecting  her.  I  had  to  bear  those 
tidings  to  the  afflicted  mother.  But  God  had  mercifully  or- 
dered it  so  that  I  could,  with  entire  sincerity,  say,  "  I  hope  she 
is  better."  Mrs.  G.  met  me  on  the  stairs, — "  Where  is  Ellen?" 
anxiously.  "  Why,  my  dear,  she  did  not  come  " — carelessly. 
"  Is  she  sick?" — alarmed.  "  Why,  my  dear,  she  hasn't  been 
very  well."     "Is  she  dangerous?" — greatly  agitated.     "We 


144  RESIDENCE    AT 

have  been  somewhat  concerned  about  her,  but  we  hope  she  is 
better."  Mrs.  G.  disappeared.  I  went  into  the  room  where 
my  poor  child  lay.  I  found  her  insensible — deaf,  dumb,  and 
perhaps  blind.  By  shaking  her  violently  I  could  make  her 
open  her  eyes  ;  but  they  would  fall  together  as  soon.  I  wish- 
ed to  pray  with  her  without  delay ;  and  when  I  sought  for 
Mrs.  G.  I  found  her  in  a  dark  room,  leaning  on  Mrs.  E.  cry- 
ing, ready  to  break  her  heart,  and  saying,  "  God  is  going  to 
take  away  both  of  my  children."  That  night  I  did  not  shed 
a  tear,  though  apt  to  weep.  I  got  the  friends  assembled  in 
the  room,  and  then  stretched  out  my  hands  over  the  bed  and 
commended  to  God  our  dying  child.  When  I  opened  my 
eyes,  I  found  Mrs.  G.  bent  down  under  her  sorrows.  I  there- 
fore lifted  my  voice  aloud  and  said,  "  What  does  it  signify  for 
God  to  reign  if  he  may  not  govern  the  world  ?  What  does  it 
signify  for  us  to  proclaim  our  joy  that  he  governs,  if  we  will 
not  allow  him  to  take  from  us  our  Josephs  and  our  Benjamins 
as  he  pleases?"  The  words,  I  saw,  went  through  the  poor 
mother's  heart,  and  from  that  moment  she  hfted  up  her  head. 
She  went  to  bed  that  night  (she  told  me  afterwards)  under  a 
great  weight,  but  she  awoke  in  the  night,  and  all  her  burden 
was  gone. 

A  change  had  taken  place  in  the  sick  child  that  morning, 
between  break  of  day  and  sunrise,  which  indicated  that  a  de- 
cisive change  would  probably  take  place  the  next  morning  at 
the  same  hour,  and  many  chances  to  one  it  would  be  for 
death.  But  I  found  I  could  not  set  up  the  interest  of  my  child 
against  the  will  of  God.  I  felt  a  strange  composure,  for  which 
I  reproached  myself.  I  said  to  a  friend  repeatedly  that  I  ap- 
peared to  myself  to  be  stupid.  I  said  to  myself,  "  Do  you  love 
your  child  as  you  love  yourself?  Would  you  feel  so  little  con- 
cern were  there  fifty  chances  to  one  that  you  would  be  beyond 
the  reach  of  hope  to-morrow  ?"  And  yet  I  could  not  feel  that 
misery  and  tumult  which  the  awful  event,  separated  from  the 
will  of  God,  seemed  calculated  to  produce.  In  the  course  of 
the  evening  Dr.  B.  told  me  that  if  she  survived  the  next  day 
she  would  be  liable  to  be  taken  off  every  half  hour  for  three 


WILHAMSTOWN.  145 

weeks.  "  Well  then,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  it  is  in  vain  to  hope. 
I  might  as  well  hope  if  she  had  to  run  the  gauntlet  between  a 
hundred  soldiers,  with  all  their  guns  pointed  at  her  heart." 
At  that  moment  it  was  powerfully  impressed  on  my  mind, 
"If  it  is  the  will  of  the  Lord  Jesus  that  she  shall  die,  she  will 
die  ;  and  if  it  is  his  will  that  she  shall  live,  she  will  live,  though 
she  were  to  run  the  gauntlet  through  the  world."  That 
thought  composed  me,  and  I  went  to  bed  and  slept  quietly  till 
morning.  But  I  was  up  with  the  day.  And  instead  of  the 
chill  of  death  coming  upon  her,  she  lifted  up  her  eyes  and 
knew  me.  Though  I  could  not  weep  that  night,  the  next 
day  I  could  weep  profusely,  under  a  sense  of  the  goodness  of 
God. 

On  the  14th  of  November  I  was  inaugurated  to  the  office 
of  president  of  Williams  College. 

On  Tuesday,  Dec.  llth,  I  went  after  my  famil}^,  and 
brought  them  home  on  Thursday,  the  13th,  seven  weeks 
wanting  a  day  or  two  from  the  time  we  landed  at  Troy. 
The  same  day,  Ellen  was  brought  home ;  and  a  joyful  meet- 
ing it  was.  I  had  longed  that  the  family,  if  ever  permitted 
to  meet  again,  might  hve  only  to  Him  who  had  preserved 
them.  But  alas  how  have  we  forgotten  his  mercies !  I  am 
utterly  confounded  when  I  think  of  this. 

This  great  mercy  as  relates  to  Louisa,  and  especially  the 
scene  at  Wadsworth's,  never  appeared  to  me  so  affecting  as 
since  her  hopeful  conversion. 

TO  HIS  DAUGHTER  FRANCES  LOUISA,  WHILE   AT. SCHOOL 
AT  SANDWICH. 

Willia?nstown,  March  17th,  1823. 

*  *  *  As  the  church  here  have  set  apart  to-morrow  as  a 
day  of  fasting  and  prayer  for  the  effusions  of  the  Spirit,  and  I 
expect  to  be  with  them,  I  shall  have  no  time  to  write  after  this 
evening.  The  revival  in  college  is  at  an  awful  stand.  No 
instance  of  hopeful  conversion  for  near  a  fortnight.  In  that 
time  there  has  been  much  labor,  and  not  a  few  impressions 
made  of  a  weaker  sort,  which  seem  to  come  and  go,  in  a  way 

Vol.  L  19 


146  RESIDENCE    AT 

to  hold  us  between  hope  and  fear,  and  I  should  be  tempted  to 
be  discouraged  were  it  not  for  the  increasing  earnestness,  as  I 
hope,  of  christians,  botli  in  the  college  and  in  the  town. 
Amidst  all  my  other  anxieties,  my  poor  children  that  have  no 
God,  lie  daily  upon  my  heart : — my  poor  children  who  have 
souls  as  valuable  as  they  appeared  to  me  when  I  was  going  to 
Troy  in  November,  1821,  and  when  I  bent  over  my  insensi- 
ble and  apparently  dying  child,  that  evening.  Oh  Louisa, 
you  have  scenes  yet  to  enter  upon  which  no  language  can  de- 
scribe, and  no  mortal  heart  can  conceive.  My  dear  child,  pre- 
pare, I  beseech  you,  to  meet  your  God.  Oh  let  not  your  pa- 
rents find  you  missing  when  they  search  for  you  among  the 
redeemed  host  at  the  last  day. 

*    *    *     I  am  sorry  that  you  said,  or  ever  heard  any  thing 

about ;  because  I  am  unwilling  that  a  grudge  should  he 

in  your  heart,  or  in  mine,  against  a  human  being.  I  hope 
you  will  neither  hear  nor  communicate  any  thing  more  against 
a  single  person  on  earth. 

Your  affectionate  father, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

TO  HIS  DAUGHTER  ELLEN  MARIA. 

Williatns  College,  June  12th,  1824. 
"  *  *  I  had,  my  dear  child,  a  distressing  dream  about 
you  last  night.  I  dreamed  that  I  was  the  presiding  magistrate 
in  a  court  which  had  condemned  you  to  die  for  murder, — and 
to  be  executed  the  next  day.  You  besought  for  your  life  ;  but 
I  told  you  that  1  could  not  help  you,  and  entreated  you  to  pre- 
pare to  die.  And  when  you  appeared  disposed  to  consume  the 
few  precious  moments  in  prayer  to  me,  I  told  you  that  you 
must  not  say  another  word  about  it.  You  obeyed,  and  was 
silent,  and  I  awoke.  And  when  I  awoke,  the  thought  of  my 
poor  supphant  child,  condemned  to  death,  and  pleading  with 
me  for  her  life  ;  and  the  thought  that  I  might  one  day  see  you 
pleading  for  an  eternal  life,  when  I  could  not  afford  you  relief; 
affected  me  so  much  that  I  could  not  help  praying  for  you  a 
considerable  time,  till  I  fell  asleep  again.     Oh  my  dear  child, 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  147 

remember  that  no  modification  of  the  social  affections,  and  of 
the  outward  deportment,  will  answer  without  a  radical  change 
of  heart ;  that  no  habits  of  respect  for  religion  will  avail  with- 
out a  deep  conviction  of  sin  and  ruin  ;  that  without  thus  feel- 
ing yourself  sick  unto  death,  you  never  will  apply  to  the  gieat 
physician,  but  will  rather  become  the  more  self-righteous  for 
your  outward  regularity  ;  and  that  your  prayers  will  not  be 
heard  unless  they  proceed  from  the  very  heart,  but  may,  by 
sinking  into  a  cold  unmeaning  form,  become  mockery,  and 
''an  abomination  to  the  Lord."  I  beseech  you,  my  darling 
child,  to  read  over  this  paragraph  morning  and  evening  before 
you  offer  your  prayers,  for  the  rest  of  the  winter,  when  some- 
thing special  does  not  prevent. 

I  have  only  time  to  add  that,  with  da  ly  prayers  for  your 
sanctification,  I  am,  your  affectionate  father, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

TO  THE  REV.  M.  TUCKER,  OF  NORTHAMPTON. 

Williams  College,  July  lUh,  1825. 
Rev.  and  Dear  Sir, 

Your  favor  of  June  28th,  with  the  accompanying  sermon, 
was  duly  received ;  and  I  sincerely  thank  you  for  both.  I 
read  the  sermon  immediately  and  with  much  interest.  My 
time  is  so  occupied  at  present  in  various  ways  that  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  pay  that  attention  to  the  subjects  of  your  letter 
which  I  could  desire.  You  gratify  me  by  your  confidence, 
but  you  have  laid  out  a  hard  piece  of  work  for  me ;  I  mean 
difiicult  of  accomplishment. 

It  does  appear  to  me  that  the  most  important  object  of  all, 
and  which  ought  for  the  present  to  engross  your  whole  atten- 
tion, is  to  bring  that  immense  congregation,  by  your  preach- 
ing, prayers,  and  pastoral  visits  under  the  influence — the  dis- 
solving and  transforming  influence — of  powerful  and  repeated 
revivals  of  rehgion.  As  to  scholarship,  if  it  has  not  been  at- 
tained before  one  has  reached  the  age  of  thirty,  and  has  en- 
tered on  such  a  prodigious  field  of  labor,  it  cannot  be  attained 
to  any  very  high  degree  in  connexion  with  such  a  conscience 


148  RESIDENCE    AT 

as  yours.  Your  Hebrew  may  be  easily  renewed  without 
points,  by  the  help  of  Parkhurst's  Hebrew  Lexicon  ;  and  with- 
out points  will  answer  all  the  purposes  of  explaining  the  ori- 
ginal text.  In  your  case,  I  certainly  would  go  no  further 
than  this  in  Hebrew.  But  I  doubt  much  whether  I  would 
enter  at  present  on  any  new  plan  of  studies  beyond  those 
which  are  strictly  theological.  If  you  can  prevail  to  imbue 
that  great  people  with  divine  truth,  and  make  the  truth  tri- 
umph where  President  Edwards  fell,  and  bring  them,  by  the 
side  of  Brainerd's  grave,  to  pray  as  Brainerd  prayed ;  you  will 
have  performed  a  work  great  enough  for  an  angel's  powers : 
you  may  then  go  to  heaven,  and  the  church  will  bless  God 
that  you  ever  had  existence.  Considering  the  history,  and  the 
magnitude,  and  the  influence  of  your  congregation,  and  the 
state  in  which  you  received  it,  few  men  have  ever  had  such 
a  work  laid  out  for  them  ; — it  is  enough  to  exhaust  the  powers 
of  one  mind.  It  is  a  charge  ponderous  enough  "  to  make  the 
shoulders  of  an  angel  tremble." 

I  would  recommend  it  to  you,  my  brother,  to  bathe  your 
soul  in  Baxter's  "Saint's  Rest,"  and  to  be  much  in  prayer, 
and  make  yourself  deeply  acquainted  with  the  Scriptures. 
You  are  kind  enough  to  ask  after  my  course.  I  believe  that 
an  early  commencement  and  pursuit  of  a  systematic  study  of 
the  Bible,  in  connexion  with  a  long  course  of  revivals  of  reli- 
gion in  which  I  was  permitted  to  be  engaged,  and  an  habitual 
aim,  in  my  ordinary  sermons,  to  reach  the  conscience,  and  the 
heart  at  every  stroke,  and  the  habit  of  striking  out,  as  I  cor- 
rect my  sermons  for  a  new  exhibition  of  them,  every  clause 
and  word  Avhich  is  not  subservient  to  this  end  ;  may  be  num- 
bered among  the  most  eflicacious  means  of  forming  my  pre- 
sent manner  of  preaching,  such  as  it  is.  Perhaps  the  most 
powerful  circumstance,  not  yet  mentioned,  was  entering  upon 
the  large  congregation  of  Newark,  calling  for  constant  and 
impassioned  preaching,  and  for  continual  visiting.  I  made  a 
bad  improvement  under  these  advantages ;  but  I  am  far  from 
thinking  with  you,  my  Dear  Sir,  that  a  man  cannot  be  a  good 
preacher  and  pastor  with  a  great  congregation.     A  great  con- 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  149 

gregation,  as  rousing  to  great  exertions,  is  the  best  field  for  the 
formation  of  such  a  character.     You  can  never  satisfy  any 
people  by  visiting.     The  best  way  to  approach  it,  is  perhaps 
to  show  the  people,  by  a  systematic  course,  that  you  visit  all 
you  can.     Besides  your  social  visits  and  visits  to  the  sick,  I 
would  set  apart  one  day  in  a  week  to  strictly  parochial  visits, 
to  be  short,  and  right  to  the  point,  and  to  be  closed  with  prayer. 
Make  the  appointment  before  hand,  and  let  all  know  the  course. 
As  to  the  manner  of  preaching,  the  object  of  every  stroke 
ought  to  be  to  do  good  rather  than  to  gain  popularity.     That 
will  make  us  the  most  divinely  eloquent.     The  little  pretti- 
nesses  of  thought  and  expression,  which  the  love  of  popularity 
can  produce,   are  nothing  to  the  great  and  overwhelming 
thoughts  which  flow  from  a  mind  solemnly  impressed  with 
divine  things,  and  earnestly  desirous  to  impress  them  upon 
others.     Here  we  may  aim  high.     I  doubt  the  lawfulness  of 
any  other  high  aim  in  a  minister  of  Christ.     Dr.  Witherspoon 
used  to  advise  his  pupils  to  write  out  one  good  sermon  a  week, 
and  let  the  rest  take  care  of  themselves.     You  cannot,  in  your 
situation,  write  but  one.     I  would  recommend  it  to  you  to  ex- 
temporize in  the  week,  to  preach  from  a  skeleton  in  the  morn- 
ing of  the  Sabbath,  and  from  notes  in  the  afternoon.     From 
your  account  of  your  fondness  for  belles-lettres  and  poetry,  and 
aversion  to  metaphysics,  I  should  apprehend  that  the  side  on 
which  you  are  to  guard,  is  a  tendency  to  sprightliness,  without 
sufficient  weight  and  penetrating  force.     You  have  a  fine  im- 
agination, and  a  fine  taste  to  regulate  it.     Use  both  of  them, 
as  nature  dictates,  without  effort ;  but  let  all  your  effort  be  to 
fill  your  pages  with  the  weight  and  solemnity  of  divine  truth. 
Under  each  head  labor  to  get  out  that  precise  view  of  truth 
which  you  had  in  your  most  solemn  hour  on  your  knees.     I 
advise  you  to  read  much  the  sermons  of  President  Edwards. 
My  paper  is  out.     Mrs.  G.  and  I  will  stay  at  your  house  with 
pleasure,   at  the  approaching  meeting  of  the  American  Board 
of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions.      Won't  you  come 
and  bring  Mrs.  T.  to  our  commencement  ? 
Very  affectionately  yours, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 


150  RESIDENCE    AT 

Dr.  G.  proceeds  in  his  narrative  thus : 

When  I  first  came  here  there  were  48  students  connected 
with  the  college.  Tlie  number  increased  before  the  Amherst 
charter  was  obtained,  (in  February  or  March,  1825,)  to  120. 
That  event,  by  the  following  commencement  struck  us  down 
to  80.  About  30  in  the  course  of  the  spring  and  summer, 
took  dismissions,  under  the  impression  that  the  college  would 
be  broken  up.  Nineteen  graduated  that  commencement, 
and  a  class  came  in  of  seven,  and  little  prospect  appeared  of 
much  increase.  At  that  crisis  I  formed  the  purpose  of  raising 
a  fund  of  ,4^25,000  for  the  purpose  of  building  a  chapel  and 
endowing  a  new  Professorship.  While  at  Northampton  at- 
tending the  meeting  of  the  American  Board  of  Commission- 
ers for  Foreign  Missions,  I  determined  to  open  the  subscription 
myself  with  $1,000,  provided  certain  other  gentlemen  in  Wil- 
liamstown  would  do  the  same,  or  in  proportion.  From  that 
time  I  felt  better  about  the  college.  On  my  return  from  a 
northern  tour  through  Manchester,  (Vt.)  I  heard  of  a  revival 
there.  This  excited  unusual  desires  in  my  mind  for  a  revival 
in  college,  which  desire  never  ceased  from  that  time. 

When  college  came  together  several  returned  under  deep 
impressions  ;  and  it  was  soon  evident  that  God  was  among  us. 
My  eldest  daughter  at  that  time  was  married  and  lived  in  the 
neighborhood ;  and  my  youngest  daughter  was  at  school  at 
Hartford,  (Conn.)  about  90  miles  off.  As  Louisa  had  been 
awakened  in  a  revival  at  Newark  in  1817,  I  came  to  the  con- 
clusion, as  soon  as  I  was  convinced  that  the  Spirit  of  God  was 
among  us,  that  she  would,  in  all  probability  be  brought  in 
then  or  be  lost.  During  the  months  of  October  and  Novem- 
ber, my  agony  was  great  and  increasing  for  her,  and  her  hus- 
band, and  for  the  college.  The  seriousness  in  college  conti- 
nued to  increase;  but  it  was  not,  I  think,  till  about  the  first  of 
December,  that  the  spirit  came  down  like  a  mighty  rushing 
wind. 

My  wrestlings  for  the  college  and  the  town  were  great  dur- 
ing all  this  time ;  but  Louisa's  last  chance  appeared  to  have 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  151 

come.  She  and  her  husband  were  very  interesting  objects  to 
me,  and  my  absent  child  also.  That  passage  in  Luke,  xi. 
5-13,  opened  upon  me  with  a  most  interesting  reality,  particu- 
larly the  last  verse,  "  How  much  more  shall  your  Heavenly 
Father  give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him."  I  believ- 
ed the  truth  of  that  promise  as  fully  as  I  believed  my  own  ex- 
istence, and  applied  it  to  supplications  for  the  Spirit  on  others 
as  well  as  on  myself.  It  appeared  indeed  a  wonder  that  God 
should  regard  the  prayers  of  such  polluted  worms,  until  I  dis- 
covered, in  the  light  of  that  text,  which  for  the  first  time  open- 
ed upon  me,  (Romans,  viii.  26, 27,)  that  it  was  the  Holy  Ghost 
that  prayed.  I  could  not  help  exclaiming,  "  No  wonder  that 
God  hears  prayer  when  it  is  the  Holy  Ghost  that  prays.  What 
an  awful  place  is  the  christian's  closet !  The  whole  Trinity  is 
about  it  every  time  he  kneels.  There  is  the  Spirit  praying  to 
the  Father  through  the  Son."  My  sermon  on  the  Prayer  of 
Faith,  which  I  have  just  sent  on  to  the  National  Preacher, 
and  a  copy  of  which  I  leave  in  manuscript  to  my  children, 
was  copied,  with  great  exactness,  from  my  exercises  at  that 
time,  mingled  in  with  my  exercises  in  other  revivals.  Except 
the  single  clause,  "  because  men  keep  not  God's  law,"  under 
the  first  head,  (which  I  drew  from  the  experience  of  David,) 
all  the  eight  particulars  were  drawn  from  my  own  experience, 
with  as  much  exactness  as  I  could  possibly  attain.  My  desire 
on  this  occasion  was  heart-breaking.  I  searched  diligently  to 
see  if  I  was  setting  up  the  interest  of  my  children  against 
God's  interest,  or  my  will  against  his  will.  I  could  not  find 
that  I  was.  I  felt  my  absolute  dependance ;  and  yet  could 
never  stop  in  the  use  of  means.  I  felt  greatly  abased  under 
a  sense  of  sin.  O  how  did  I  feel  often  when  upon  my  knees 
I  was  forced  to  say  with  tears,  "  Although  my  house  be  not 
so  with  God."  The  case  of  Jacob  at  Penuel  and  that  of  the 
Syrophenician  woman  always  stood  before  me.  And  so  con- 
fident was  I  that  the  promise  was  everlasting  truth,  that  1  saw 
I  might  indeed  take  hold  of  it  and  draw  the  blessing  down, — 
that  I  might  lawfully  keep  hold  of  it  until  the  blessing  came. 
I  seized  it  with  both  my  hands,  and  said,  "  Here  I  plant  my- 


153  RESIDENCE    AT 

self  down,  and  on  this  spot  I  will  receive  the  blessing  or  die. 
I  hold  thee  to  thy  word  and  will  not  let  thee  go."  Once  an 
objection  started  up,  "  Is  not  this  holding  of  God  to  his  word 
a  taking  from  him  the  right  of  sovereignty?"  I  was  alarmed 
at  this,  as  though,  in  pursuit  of  every  thing  dear,  a  wall  from 
heaven  had  dropped  upon  my  path.  I  threw  my  eyes  farther, 
I  thought,  than  I  ever  did  before,  into  the  regions  of  truth, 
and  soon  I  saw  the  solution  :  "  If  God  had  not  given  me  this 
spirit  to  hold  him  fast,  I  should  have  been  a  clod.  His  sove- 
reignty was  fully  exercised  in  that  gift."  As  when  a  dam  has 
suddenly  stopped  a  rapid  torrent,  and  after  a  time  is  suddenly 
removed,  and  the  waters  impetuously  sweep ;  so  did  my  re- 
strained and  eager  spirit,  when  I  saw  the  whole  field  open  be- 
fore me,  and  not  a  fence  nor  a  bar  in  the  way,  sweep  it  with 
my  whole  heart  and  soul  and  mind  and  strength.  If  that 
was  not  prayer,  and  in  some  measure  the  prayer  of  Penuel, 
that  could  not  fail  in  some  degree  to  receive  the  blessing,  I  be- 
lieved that  I  had  never  prayed,  and  was  yet  in  my  sins. 

After  placing  myself  on  my  pillow  and  disposing  of  all 
other  matters,  I  used  to  betake  myself  to  this  struggle,  first 
for  others,  and  then  for  my  children.  And  if  I  ever  prayed, 
it  was  in  those  nocturnal  agonies.  And  after  thus  staking  my 
own  salvation,  as  it  were,  on  the  issue,  I  would  go  in  the 
morning,  or  in  the  course  of  the  day,  to  see  how  my  daugh- 
ter was  affected  ;  and  she,  knowing  the  kindness  of  my  inten- 
tion, would  meet  me,  week  after  week,  with  a  filial  smile.  I 
could  never  have  thought  that  such  a  filial  smile  would  so 
wither  a  parent's  heart.  My  stated  question  was,  "  Do  you 
realizingly  feel  that  it  would  be  just  for  God  to  cast  you  off?" 
And  she  would  as  uniformly  answer  "  No."  She  knew  all 
about  the  doctrines;  her  understanding  was  fully  convinced  ; 
she  was  awakened,  and  attended  all  the  meetings ;  but  she 
went  no  further. 

In  the  latter  part  of  December,  I  sent  for  my  daughter  El- 
len home,  that  I  might  lay  her  at  the  Saviour's  feet.  If  I 
failed  in  my  object,  I  knew  the  world  would  say,  "  There,  he 
tried  and  could'nt."     But  I  thought  with  myself,  "  She  can 


WI1.HAMSTOWN.  153 

but  die."  And  eo  her  brother  in-law  went  for  Iier  90  miles  in 
that  season  of  the  year.  When  she  came  home  I  desired  her 
to  do  nothing  but  read  and  pray  and  attend  the  meetings. 
She  compUed,  and  was  sober,  but  not  convicted,  or  even  awa- 
kened. 

Thus  things  went  on  till  Wednesday  evening,  Jan.  18th, 
1826 ;  in  which  time  my  anguish  of  spirit  had  well  nigh  laid 
me  upon  a  bed  of  sickness.  That  evening  after  meeting,  I 
visited  Louisa,  and  put  to  her  the  old  question,  "  Do  you  feel 
that  it  would  be  just  for  God  to  cast  you  off?"  After  a  consi- 
derable pause,  and  in  a  low  voice,  she  answered,  "  Yes,  Sir." 
I  started,  as  a  man  awoke  in  a  new  world,  and  said,  "  Do 
you,  my  dear  ?"  After  another  pause,  and  in  a  low  voice,  she 
answered  again,  "Yes,  Sir."  That  evening  upon  my  pillow, 
I  began  to  say,  "  Was  she  not  awakened  at  Newark  ?  Has 
she  not  knowledge  enough  1  And  is  she  not  now  at  last  con- 
victed of  her  desert  of  hell  ?  Has  not  enough  been  done  in  a 
preparatory  way?  Wilt  thou  not  this  night  take  away  the 
heart  of  stone  and  give  a  heart  of  flesh?"  At  that  moment 
something  within  me  said,  "No;  let  her  be  more  deeply  con- 
victed of  her  sin  and  ruin,  that  she  may  know  what  she  ow  es  to 
our  redeeming  God  and  his  dying  Son ; — that  she  may  see  the 
distinctive  glories  of  that  God  and  Saviour  whom  I  maintained 
against  a  world  in  arms  before  she  was  born."  The  prayer 
passed  from  her  to  her  husband,  and  then  to  her  sister.  Their 
personal  interests,  which  had  pressed  like  a  mountain  so  long 
upon  me,  were  swallowed  up  and  lost,  and  the  all-absorbing 
desire  was,  "  That  eyes  so  dear  to  me,  may  see  the  glory  of 
our  redeeming  God  and  his  dying  Son,  and  that  souls  so  dear 
may  show  in  their  salvation  the  same  glory  to  the  universe." 
I  then  saw,  as  I  never  saw  before,  what  it  is  for  God  to  be  glo- 
rified, and  felt  conscious  that  I  desired  that  object  more  than 
all  others.  It  appeared  the  most  glorious  object;  and  my 
whole  soul  went  out  in  pantings  after  it. 

The  next  morning,  before  I  was  up,  Mrs.  Griffin  came  back 
into  my  room,  and  said,  "  I  have  been  into  Ellen's  chamber, 
and  found  her  weeping.     She  says.  Mamma,  I  woke  up  this 

Vol.  I.  20 


154  RESIDENCE    AT 

morning  early,  and  began  to  think  how  good  God  had  been 
to  me  and  how  ungrateful  I  had  been  to  him;  and  I  can't 
sleep  any  more."  This  was  her  first  conviction.  That  same 
morning,  as  Louisa  was  coming  down  to  spend  the  day  with 
us,  (for  the  family  spent  every  Thursday  with  us.)  and  when 
she  had  reached  the  gate,  "  The  thought,"  (as  she  afterwards 
expressed  it,)  "dropped  upon  my  mind,  tliat  God  reigns;  and 
it  was  a  glorious  thought.''  She  did  not  tell  me  of  this  till 
Friday  niglit.  On  Saturday  morning,  when  I  called  to  see 
her,  she  was  all  dissolved,  and  related  the  views  she  had  had 
of  her  sin  and  of  the  mercy  of  God  the  last  evening.  On 
Thursday  Ellen  attended  Mr.  Gridley's  inquiry  meeting,  and 
he  told  me  afterwards,  that  in  addressing  her,  he  had  tried 
every  string,  and  not  one  of  them  vibrated  till  he  touched  on 
the  goodness  of  God,  and  then  she  wept  like  a  child.  On 
Friday  or  Saturday  I  said  to  her,  "  My  daughter,  where  do 
you  expect  to  spend  your  eternity?"  She  answered,  "Why, 
papa,  1  have'nt  thought  of  that."  "What  then  have  you 
been  thinking  about  ?"    "I  have  been  thinking  how  good  God 


Dr.  Smith,  my  son-in-law,  into  a  separate  room,  and  pressed 
him  with  all  the  power  I  could  apply.  He  wept.  The  next 
day,  (Jan.  22d,  1820.)  I  preached  a  sermon  with  a  view  to 
try  Louisa's  hope,  from  Psalm  xcix.  9,  '•  For  the  Lord  our 
God  is  holy."  I  noticed  that  Dr.  Smith  devoured  every  word. 
The  next  day  I  learnt  that  he  had  been  hoping  since  Satur- 
day. I  searched  for  him  and  found  him,  and  after  dinner  he 
came  to  me.  We  sat  in  my  study,  and  Ellen  sat  by  the  win- 
dow behind  me.  I  cast  my  eye  back  upon  her,  and  she  look- 
ed more  like  the  image  of  misery  than  ever  before.  She  felt 
that  she  was  left  alone  indeed.  The  Dr.  retired,  and  Ellen 
left  the  room.  Not  long  after,  Mrs.  Griffin  came  in,  and  said, 
"  Ellen  has  been  saying  to  me,  I  am  afraid  papa  don't  feel 
about  me  just  as  he  did  about  Louisa."  "  Tell  the  dear  child," 
said  I,  "  to  bring  in  my  surtout,  (as  I  was  going  out,)  and  I 
will  talk  with  her."     She  came  in,  in  great  distress.     After 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  155 

some  conversation,  I  kneeled  down  with  her,  by  my  hbrary." 
The  spot  and  the  time  I  never  shall  forget.  The  Syropheni- 
cian  woman  had  been  much  before  me.  She  was  before  me 
then ;  and  so  was  the  glorious  Personage  to  whom  she  applied. 
And  he  appeared  as  near  to  me  as  he  did  to  her, — as  near  as 
though  he  had  been  bodily  present.  And  it  was  as  easy  for  me 
to  put  my  child  into  his  arms,  as  though  he  had  been  visibly 
in  the  room.  And  I  did  put  her  into  his  arms,  with  all  my 
heart  and  soul.  And  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  impossible, 
but  that  she  would  give  herself  to  him  before  she  arose. 
When  1  arose  I  took  her  in  my  arms  and  said,  "  My  dear, 
have  you  given  yourself  to  Christ?"  "Oh,  no,"  said  she,  and 
was  apparently  overwhelmed.  1  left  the  room  and  went  out 
to  visit  a  family,  where  I  met  my  dear  Louisa,  who  appeared 
the  happiest  creature  in  the  world.  She  was  going  that  eve- 
ing  to  the  first  prayer  meeting  she  ever  attended,  as  she 
thought.  Upon  my  return  after  tea,  Mrs.  Griffin  met  me  and 
said,  "  I  never  witnessed  such  a  scene.  Ellen  has  been  weep- 
ing upon  my  neck,  and  saying,  Christ  died  for  me,  and  I  have 
never  done  any  thing  for  him,  and  I  cannot  hve  so  any  longer." 
I  asked  her  to  send  her  in.  She  came  in,  when  the  following 
dialogue  took  place  between  us,  "  My  child,  where  do  you 
expect  to  spend  your  eternity?"  "  Why,  papa,  I  think  it  most 
hkely  that  I  shall  spend  it  in  hell,"  "Well,  my  dear,  that 
question  God  will  decide,  without  asking  counsel  of  you  or 
me,"  "  I  know  that,  papa,  and  I  don't  want  any  body  else 
should  decide  it."  "  VVhy,  my  dear  ?"  "  Because  he  appears 
so  good  and  so  just."  "  Do  you  think  that  you  deserve  hell  ?" 
"  Oh,  I  know  I  do."  "  What  is  the  greatest  desire  of  your 
heart  ?"  "  To  love  and  serve  God  all  my  days."  In  that  con- 
dition she  remained  eight  and  forty  hours,  without  a  particle 
of  hope.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  (to  use  her  own  expres- 
sion,) her  burden  fell  off,  and  the  preciousness  and  loveliness 
of  Christ  appeared  to  her  view.  In  the  mean  time  Louisa  at- 
tended her  prayer  meeting  on  Monday  evening.  While  I  was 
at  breakfast  on  Tuesday  morning,  Ellen  received  from  her 
sister  the  following  note. 


156  residence  at 

My  dearest  Ellen, 

I  never  felt  so  anxious  to  see  you  as  I  do  this  morning, 
but  the  weather  seems  to  forbid.  I  have  always  felt  for  your 
body,  now  I  would  inquire  about  your  immortal  soul.  When 
I  feel  the  fullness  there  is  in  the  dear  Redeemer,  his  ability 
and  wilUngness,  yea,  ardent  desire  to  save  just  such  sinners  as 
we  are,  I  cannot  but  hope  that  you  have  seen  him  too,  and 
have  been  enabled  without  reserve  to  give  yourself  away  to 
him.  If  you  have  not,  O  do  not  stay  away  another  moment. 
Why  should  you  ?  There  is  balm  in  Gilead,  an  almighty 
Physician  there.  Do  you  feel  yourself  to  be  a  polluted,  self- 
ruined  sinner,  totally  undone?  O  let  not  your  sins  keep  you 
from  him.  This  is  the  very  reason  why  you  should  go  to 
him.  What  was  his  errand  into  this  miserable  world,  but  to 
"seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost?"  What  is  he  now 
walking  our  streets  for  but  to  dispense  pardons  to  the  guilty: 
to  "  gather  the  lambs  in  his  arms  and  carry  them  in  his  bo- 
som?" O  believe  his  promises.  Think  him  sincere  when  he 
invites  "  every  one  that  thirsteth,"  all  that  are  "  weary  and 
heavy  laden,"  "  the  ends  of  the  earth,"  to  look  unto  him  and 
be  saved.  Do  not  add  to  all  your  other  sins,  the  crying  sin  of 
unbelief.  Come,  and  he  will  fill  your  soul  with  that  "  peace 
that  passeth  understanding."  He  will  enable  you  to  say, 
"Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee?  and  there  is  none  upon 
earth  that  I  desire  besides  thee."  He  will  enable  you  to  say, 
"O  that  all  the  blind  could  see  him  too."  He  will  enable  you 
to  point  your  dear  companions  to  "  the  Lamb  of  God  which 
taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  I  hope  your  brother  is  in 
the  ark.  We  had  a  long  and  most  interesting  conversation 
last  evening.  He  was  called  away  at  day-light,  and  has  not 
yet  returned.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hanson  are  both  rejoicing  in  their 
Saviour.  Give  my  love  to  E.  Dewey.  You  may  read  this  to 
her.  What  I  say  to  you  I  say  to  her, — to  all, — to  poor  Susan  ; 
come  to  Christ.  "  None  but  Jesus  can  do  helpless  sinners 
good." 

W"e  had  a  blessed  meeting  last  evening.     O  it  is  good  to 
draw  near  to  God  through  the  Mediator.     You  must  come  up 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  157 

"  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty."  Do  all  you 
can  for  him  who  bought  you  with  his  blood.  There  is  nothing 
else  worth  living  for. 

My  love  to  our  dear  parents.  Say  to  them,  "  Be  not  afraid, 
only  beheve."    I  hope  to  see  you  before  night. 

Your  anxious  and  affectionate  sister, 

F.  L.  SMITH. 

Notwithstanding  this  note,  Louisa  shortly  after  came  down 
and  spent  the  day ;  and  in  the  evening  my  three  children  and 
myself  attended  a  most  interesting  meeting.  Louisa  has  been 
heard  to  say,  that  was  the  happiest  day  of  her  life.  The 
next  day,  Wednesday,  Jan.  26th,  Ellen  was  relieved.  All 
within  a  week  from  that  ever  to  be  remembered  Wednesday 
evening,  when  I  first  learnt  that  Louisa  was  convicted,  and 
when  I  had  that  travail  on  my  wakeful  pillow. 

The  following  letter  from  Doctor  Griffin,  con- 
taining an  account  of  the  hopeful  conversion  of  his 
children,  was  addressed  to  Nathaniel  Willis 
Esq.  of  Boston,  and  shortly  after  was  published  in 
the  Boston  Recorder. 

Williams  College,  Feb.  2,  1826. 
Dear  Sir, 

Your  letter  gave  me  great  pleasure.  The  prospect  of  an- 
other revival  of  religion  in  Boston  is  animating  in  no  small 
degree.  Your  letter  was  read  to  the  pious  students  who  are 
here  in  vacation,  with  a  request  that  they  would  daily  remem- 
ber Boston  in  their  prayers.  At  a  public  meeting  they  formal- 
ly agreed  to  do  it ;  and  at  a  fast  held  yesterday,  Boston  made 
one  of  the  subjects  of  their  public  petitions.  I  intend  to  en- 
deavor to  engage  the  pious  people  of  the  town  in  the  same 
course  of  wrestling  for  you. 

O  that  the  dear  christians  in  Boston  may  receive  a  spirit  of 
special  and  effectual  prayer,  in  which  desires  as  strong  as 
death  shall  be  united  with  absolute  dependance  and  faith,  and 
all  combined  with  the  most  vigorous  exertions  to  arrest  the  at- 


158  RESIDENCE    AT 

tention  of  sinners.  These  two  classes  of  exertions  ought  to 
be  duly  proportioned  to  each  other.  If  much  prayer  is  em- 
ployed with  httle  exhortation,  it  is  like  standing  at  the  bottom 
of  a  hill  and  praying  to  be  placed  on  the  top.  If  much  ex- 
hortation is  used  with  little  prayer,  it  will  issue  in  proud,  un- 
productive self-dependance.  But  then  it  must  be  the  prayer 
of  faith.  God  has  said,  "  I  will  yet  for  this  be  inquired  of  by 
the  house  of  Israel ;"  and,  "  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you." 
We  must  take  hold  of  the  promise  with  a  grasp  that  cannot 
be  broken ;  and  with  an  importunity  that  cannot  be  denied. 
JNor  is  this  humble  holding  of  God  to  his  word  in  opposition 
to  the  fullest  acknowledgment  of  his  sovereignty  and  our  de- 
pendance ;  for  we  know  all  the  time  that  unless  he  gives  us 
the  spirit  of  prayer  we  cannot  take  hold  of  the  promise.  And 
if  we  are  tempted  to  think  this  urgency  and  repetition  teaz- 
ing,  we  have  only  to  refer  to  the  parable  of  the  importunate 
widow.  It  is  a  day  in  which,  after  the  partial  suspension  of 
the  rains  of  heaven,  they  are  beginning  to  descend  in  very 
uncommon  effusions.  A  late  letter  informed  me  that  in  the 
small  village  of  Rome,  ninety  obtained  a  hope  in  two  weeks. 
All  through  the  western  part  of  New- York,  and  through  Ver- 
mont and  New- Jersey,  God  is  doing  great  things.  It  is  time 
to  expect  great  things,  and  to  attempt  great  things.  We  are 
commanded  to  open  our  mouths  wide.  Old  Mr.  Elmer,  of 
New- Jersey,  in  preaching  from  this  text  one  day,  stopped  :  the 
tear  came  into  his  eye :  For  my  part,  says  he,  I  never  expect- 
ed much,  and  God  never  gave  me  much.  1  know  of  no 
place  where  they  have  a  better  right  to  expect  much  than  in 
Boston.  You  are  kneeling  hard  by  the  sepulchres  of  those 
blessed  fathers  who  have  made  so  large  a  deposite  in  heaven 
of  their  prayers.  And  God  knows  the  need  of  a  standard 
lifted  up  where  the  enemy  comes  in  like  a  flood.  O  be  not 
discouraged.  The  blessed  Jesus  has  much  people  in  tliat  city, 
who  never  yet  have  known  him.  Our  earnest  prayers  will 
daily  mingle  with  yours  for  that  ancient  city  of  our  fathers' 
solemnities. 

As  you  were  so  kind  as  to  speak  so  tenderly  of  my  dear 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  159 

children,  I  know  it  will  give  you  joy  to  hear  that  both  of  them 
have  hopefully  laid  their  enmity  and  their  honors  at  their  Re- 
deemer's feet.  My  son-in-law  also  is  in  a  very  interesting- 
state  of  mind,  and  I  hope,  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven. Help  me  to  magnify  the  Lord  forever,  I  have  given 
my  redeemed  children  away  to  Christ,  with  a  supreme  desire 
that  they  may  be  altogether  devoted  to  him  all  the  days  of 
their  lives.  Whether  they  be  rich  or  poor, — whether  they  live 
long  or  die  soon, — are  minor  considerations. 

You  have  been  a  highly  favored  parent,  and  have  probably 
had  more  experience  than  I  in  these  solemn  and  awful  and 
intere  ting  dealings  of  God,  As  you  are  so  largely  experi- 
enced in  these  matters,  perhaps  I  may  drop  upon  the  ear  of 
private  friendship  some  account  of  what  God  has  done  for  me. 
And  if  it  shall  encourage  you  or  any  of  my  dear  friends  to 
agonize  more  abundantly  for  their  children,  my  end  is  an- 
swered. 

Little  did  I  think  what  such  a  blessing  was  to  cost  me. 
The  struggle  came  near  laying  me  on  a  bed  of  sickness.  Ne- 
ver before  had  I  such  a  sense  of  the  import  of  that  figure  in 
Gal.  iv.  19.  I  had  often  said  that  in  offering  their  children  in 
baptism  parents  must  believe  for  them,  (as  far  as  the  nature 
of  things  admits,)  as  they  did  for  their  own  souls,  and  must 
bring  them  to  Christ  as  poor  lost  sinners,  much  in  the  same 
way  in  which  they  brought  themselves.  But  now  I  s-ee  that 
if  their  children  are  to  be  born  again  in  a  covenant  way,  (it 
may  be  done  in  a  sovereign  way  without  them,)  they  must 
travail  in  birth  for  them.  For  two  full  months  the  struggle 
lasted  before  I  saw  any  decisive  signs  of  an  answer.  My 
younger  daughter  was  at  school  at  Hartford,  and  I  sent  for 
her  home  that  she  might  have  the  advantage  of  this  blessed 
season.  Week  after  week,  after  the  midnight  struggle  upon 
ray  wakeful  pillow,  I  would  go  to  my  children  in  ihe  morning 
and  be  dismayed  to  find  them  the  same.  I  would  then  return 
and  examine  my  prayers.  I  could  not  see  that  I  set  up  their 
interest  against  that  of  God,  or  my  will  against  his  will.  I 
saw  that  I  had  no  claim  except  on  a  gracious  promise  made  to 


160  RESIDENCE    AT 

prayer.  But  that  I  seized  and  hung  to  with  the  grasp  of  death. 
And  yet  nothing  seemed  to  follow.  At  last  it  came  to  this :  if 
that  was  not  prayer, — and  in  some  measure  the  prayer  of  Pe- 
nuel,  (Gen.  xxxii.  26) — I  knew  nothing  about  prayer,  and  must 
abandon  my  liope.  If  all  my  children  must  perish,  I  must  go 
down  with  them.  Such  a  hold  had  1  fixed  upon  the  promise, 
and  such  was  the  impossibility  of  letting  it  go,  that  I  found  I 
had  staked  every  thing  upon  it,  and  upon  its  truth  in  refe- 
rence to  me,  and  it  was  an  eternal  heaven  or  an  eternal  hell 
for  more  than  one.  And  yet  God  delayed.  Ah  then  was  the 
tug  and  struggle  which  shook  the  soul.  After  many  nights  I 
found  myself,  on  my  pillow,  longing  that  my  children  might 
be  brought  to  see  their  ruin,  in  order  that  they  might  see  what 
they  owed  to  God  and  their  precious  Redeemer, — might  see  his 
glory  and  bear  witness  for  him  and  praise  him  all  their  days. 
Before,  I  had  brought  them  to  God  as  a  personal  interest  j 
now,  I  wished  the  thing  done  for  the  Lord's  sake.  The  next 
morning  Ellen  could  not  sleep  to  think  how  good  God  was 
and  how  ungrateful  she  had  been ;  and  Louisa,  (whose  im- 
pressions had  been  deeper  than  slie  had  acknowledged  or 
known,)  found  herself  rejoicing  that  God  reigned.  Four  days 
after  as  I  was  praying  with  Ellen,  I  felt  such  a  nearness  to 
Christ,  and  was  enabled  to  commit  her  to  his  arms  so  easily, 
so  fully,  and  so  confidently,  that  I  could  not  but  hope  she 
would  commit  herself  to  him  before  she  arose.  I  humbly  trust 
he  received  her  then.  In  an  hour  or  two  she  was  giving 
strong  evidence  of  a  new  nature ;  yet  for  two  days  she  lay 
crushed  under  a  sense  of  her  unworthiness,  until,  as  she  ex- 
pressed it,  "  the  preciousness  and  loveliness  of  the  Saviour 
opened  to  her  view."  During  this  awful  suspense  she  receiv- 
ed the  enclosed  note  from  Louisa,  which  I  send  to  your  daugh- 
ters, my  dear  children  whom  I  used  to  catechise. 

O  may  my  soul  be  thankful,  and  may  my  hfe  and  my 
children  be  wholly  devoted  to  the  Lord.    With  my  kind  regards 
to  Mrs.  Willis  and  your  children,  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dwight,  and 
all  my  beloved  friends  in  Boston,  I  am.  Dear  Sir, 
Aflfectionately  yours, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  l(jl 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  written 
about  the  same  time,  and  in  reference  to  the  same 
general  subject,  to  the  Rev.  Frederick  Marsh, 
of  Winchester,  Conn. 

My  Dear  Sir, 

I  received  yours  of  the  15th  inst.  by  due  course  of  mail.  I 
am  truly  rejoiced  to  hear  of  this  wonderful  favor  of  God  vouch- 
safed to  our  dear  Mr.  Gillet  and  to  the  people  of  his  charge ; 
and  it  is  my  hearty  desire  and  prayer  to  God  that  your  con- 
gregation, and  all  our  beloved  Litchfield  county,  may  be 
equally  blessed.  After  several  years  of  partial  suspension,  the 
rains  of  heaven  are  at  length  beginning  lo  descend  on  our 
land  in  an  unusual  degree.  May  the  whole  extent  of  the 
United  States  be  drenched  in  the  heavenly  flood. 

We  have  indeed  much  to  acknowledge  here.  From  the 
printed  notices  you  have  probably  seen  what  God  has  done  for 
our  college.  Of  the  thirty-one  who  were  on  the  ground  with- 
out religion,  (numbers  were  absent  in  their  schools,)  we  hoped 
for  twenty-seven  at  the  close  of  the  term.  Of  the  other  four, 
one  had  been  in  deep  waters  for  a  long  time ;  the  other  three 
belong  to  this  town,  and  are  in  the  midst  of  the  revival  here. 
Many  prayers  have  been  offered  for  the  absent ;  and  as  the 
work  has  extended  to  the  town,  we  greatly  hope  that  these 
upon  their  return  will  fall  under  an  influence  iJiat  will  bring 
them  all  in.  Do  engage  your  dear  praying  people  to  inter- 
cede with  heaven  for  an  issue  so  devoutly  to  be  wished. 

The  work  has  extended  to  the  town  with  power  and  great 
glory.  I  have  not  heard  any  estimate  of  the  numbers  that  are 
impressed,  but  the  influence  is  very  general.  Among  the 
hopeful  converts,  I  am  permitted  by  infinite  mercy  to  name 
my  own  children.  My  two  daughters  give  good  evidence  of 
a  saving  change ;  and  my  son-in-law  is  in  a  very  interesting 
state  of  mind,  and,  I  hope,  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven. Help  me,  my  dear  sir,  to  bless  and  praise  the  Lord  for- 
ever. It  is  my  supreme  desire  concerning  them,  that  they 
Vol.  1.  21 


162  RESIDENCE    AT 

may  devote  tlieniselves  wholly  to  the  service  of  their  Redeemer 
all  the  days  of  their  life. 

Doctor  Griffin  continues  his  narrative  thus : — 

The  next  spring  my  two  daughters  were  admitted  to  the 
church  on  the  same  day.  The  Doctor  has  not  made  a  public 
profession  yet.  P.  S.  He  joined  the  church  afterwards  at 
Newark,  N.  J. 

The  revival  saved  the  college.  There  were  but  two  profes- 
sors. One  of  them  appeared  to  be  sinking  into  the  grave  with 
the  consumption  ;  the  other  had  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  if 
the  125,000  could  not  be  raised.  I  myself  was  invited  to  a 
professorship  in  a  Theological  Seminary,  and  had  engaged  to 
go,  if  the  fund  was  not  raised.  The  trustees  were  discouraged 
by  a  conflict  of  eleven  years,  and  would  probably  have  given 
up  the  college  if  all  the  officers  had  left  them.  All  depended, 
under  God,  on  raising  the  $25,000.  That  would  never  have 
been  raised  but  for  the  revival.  For  besides  that  this  event 
predisposed  the  christian  public  to  contribute,  it  operated  on 
me  in  two  ways.  In  the  first  place,  by  that  timely  interposi- 
tion, (in  addition  to  the  many  tokens  of  favor  manifested  to  the 
college  before,  which  are  mentioned  in  my  sermon  at  the  de- 
dication of  the  new  chapel,)  I  was  convinced  that  the  institu- 
tion was  dear  to  God,  and  that  it  was  his  purpose  to  preserve 
it.  Had  it  not  been  for  that  confidence  1  should  have  turned 
back  a  hundred  times  amidst  the  discouragements  which  sur- 
rounded me.  la  the  second  place,  that  revival  gave  me  a 
sense  of  obligation  which  excited  me  to  the  mighty  effort. 
The  influence  which  came  down  to  save  the  college,  had,  as 
I  hoped,  brought  in  my  children ;  and  I  felt  that  if  ever  a 
man  was  bound  to  go  till  he  fell  down  for  an  institution  dear 
to  Christ,  I  was  that  man. 

The  following  extract  from  Doctor  Hopkins'  ser- 
mon occasioned  by  Doctor  Griffin's  death,  will 
show  the  depressed  state  of  the  college  at  the  time 


AVILLIAMSTOWN.  163 

he  took  charge  of  it,  and  the  important  agency  he 
had  in  reheving  it  from  its  embarrassments,  and 
placing  it  on  a  more  soHd  and  permanent  founda- 
tion. 

"  We  now  come  to  that  period  in  the  history  of  Dr.  Griffin, 
when  he  became  connected  with  this  college.  This  was  in 
1821.  At  the  commencement  in  that  year.  Dr.  Moore  presid- 
ed for  the  last  time.  It  had  for  some  time  been  the  opinion  of 
the  majority  of  the  trustees,  that  if  there  was  to  be  but  one 
college,  and  it  was  supposed  there  could  be  but  one,  in  the 
western  part  of  this  state,  Northampton  would  be  a  more  favo- 
rable location,  and  Dr.  Moore  had  accepted  the  presidency 
with  the  expectation  that  the  college  would  be  removed.  A 
majority  of  the  trustees  had  voted  that  it  was  expedient  to  re- 
move it,  and  had  petitioned  the  legislature  for  permission  to  do 
so.  This  petition  had  been  met  by  a  spirited  opposition  on 
the  part  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  town,  and  of  the  county  ; 
and  upon  their  own  responsibility,  they  raised  a  subscription 
of  ^17,000,  which  was  laid  before  a  committee  of  the  legisla- 
ture, and  which  was  to  be  paid  to  the  college  in  case  it  should 
not  be  removed.  This  subscription,  raised  against  the  wishes 
of  a  majority  of  the  trustees,  but  which  they  could  not  refuse 
wdthout  a  fraud  upon  the  legislature,  some  persons  afterwards 
refused  to  pay,  and  it  was  made  the  ground  of  much  misre- 
presentation respecting  the  college.  In  consequence,  however, 
of  this  subscription,  and  of  the  representations  made  from  this 
part  of  the  state,  the  legislature  refused  to  the  trustees  permis- 
sion to  remove  the  college.  In  the  mean  time,  strong  expec- 
tations had  been  excited  in  Hampshire  county,  that  there 
would  be  a  college  there.  The  people  of  Amherst,  acting  in 
concert  with  some  of  the  trustees  of  this  college  residing  in  that 
region,  raised  large  subscriptions  and  erected  buildings  for  the 
reception  of  students,  wuth  the  expectation  of  obtaining  a  char- 
ter. Having,  therefore,  accommodations  prepared  in  a  region 
upon  which  his  eye  had  been  fixed.  Dr.  Moore  was  about  to 
place  himself  at  the  head  of  an  institution  there,  and  to  take 


164  RESIDENCE    AT 

a  considerable  number  of  the  students  with  him.  The  trus- 
tees had  aheady  elected  one  or  two  persons  as  president,  who 
had  declined,  when  Dr.  Griffin  was  fixed  upon ;  and  one  of 
their  number  went  to  Newark  to  lay  the  subject  before  him. 
He  had  been  interested  in  the  college  from  its  connection  with 
missionary  operations ;  and  coming  on  immediately  to  meet 
the  trustees,  he  arrived  here  commencement  day  at  noon,  and 
took  his  seat  upon  the  stage.  His  appearance  at  that  time  re- 
vived the  hopes  of  the  friends  of  the  college ;  and  it  was  soon 
understood  that  he  would  accept  the  appointment.  He  had 
precisely  the  kind  of  reputation  which  was  needed  for  the  col- 
lege at  such  a  crisis ;  a  comparatively  large  class  entered,  and 
the  college  continued  to  increase  in  numbers  and  to  prosper  till 
1825.  In  February  of  that  year,  Amherst  obtained  a  charter, 
and  as  it  had  been  often  urged  against  granting  one  that  two 
colleges  could  not  be  sustained  in  the  western  part  of  this  state, 
it  was  supposed  by  many  that  it  would  be  a  death  blow  to  this. 
This  impression  caused  a  number  of  the  students  to  take  dis- 
missions, while  a  very  small  class  entered  at  the  ensuing  com- 
mencement. It  was  now  seen,  that  '  to  extract  the  seeds  of 
consumption  which  had  lurked  in  the  college  for  eleven  years, 
something  must  be  done  to  conv  nee  the  public  that  it  would 
hve  and  flourish  in  this  ground.' 

"  The  trustees  accordingly  resolved  to  attempt  to  raise  a  fund 
of  $25,000  to  establish  a  new  professorship,  and  to  build  a  cha- 
pel. In  the  raising  of  this  sum.  Dr.  Griffin  was  the  princi- 
pal agent;  and  strengthened  by  an  extraordinary  revival  of 
religion,  with  which  God  in  his  mercy  then  favored  the  col- 
lege, he  accomplished  what  probably  no  other  man  could  have 
done.  In  a  time  of  general  embarrassment,  he  raised  $12,000 
in  four  weeks.  The  fund  was  completed ;  a  professorship  of 
rhetoric  and  moral  philosophy  was  endowed;  this  building 
was  erected,  and  Sept.  2d,  1828,  standing  where  I  now  stand, 
he  dedicated  it,  '  to  the  honor  and  glory  of  the  ever  blessed 
Trinity — Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.'  From  that  time  it 
has  been  felt  that  the  college  is  peiinanent ;  and  it  has  been 
going  on  side  by  side  with  sister  institutions,  doing  its  part  in 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  165 

carrying  on  the  great  business  of  education  in  this  country. 
In  estimating  this  effort  of  Dr.  Griffin,  it  should  be  remember- 
ed that  it  was  the  first  of  the  kind,  and  probably  led  to  the 
more  extended  and  the  successful  efforts  of  other  institutions 
in  the  same  way." 

The  following  letter  was  addressed  by  Doctor 
Griffin  to  the  compiler  of  this  Memoir,  in  com- 
pliance with  a  request  made  in  behalf  of  one  or  two 
distinguished  clergymen  in  England,  that  he  would 
give  his  views  of  the  cause  of  the  difference  in  the 
mode  of  the  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  Great 
Britain  and  the  United  States. 

Williams  College,  Nov.  14,  1828. 
Rev.  and  Dear  Sir, 

Your  favor  of  Aug.  16th  would  not  have  lain  so  long  un- 
answered but  for  a  series  of  most  pressing  calls.  Your  friends 
inquire  whether  the  difference  between  England  and  America 
in  regard  to  the  mode  of  the  Spirit's  operations  can  be  referred 
to  a  difference  of  national  character,  or  can  in  any  way  be  ac- 
counted for.  If  by  national  character  is  meant  every  thing 
by  which  one  nation  differs  from  others  in  their  views,  feel- 
ings, and  manners,  the  fact  must  be  ascribed  to  national  cha- 
racter, except  so  far  as  it  is  to  be  referred  to  inscrutable  sove- 
reignty. Doubtless  the  Spirit  acts  so  much  in  a  line  with  na- 
ture, that  national  character  has  vast  influence;  and  to  show 
all  the  reasons  of  the  difference  would  be  to  show  all  the  cir- 
cumstances which  contribute  to  render  one  nation  unlike  an- 
other. But  this  would  be  as  impossible  as  to  explain  all  the 
causes  of  the  winds  blowing  in  such  a  direction  and  shifting 
about  continually.  In  both  cases  some  general  reasons  can 
be  assigned,  but  innumerable  details  escape  our  research. 
We  must  doubtless  ascribe  the  difference  in  part  to  sovereignty 
more  or  less  inscrutable, — partly  perhaps  to  the  method  of 
God's  covenanted  mercy, — and  so  far  as  means  are  concerned, 
to  the  manner  in  which  they  are  shaped  by  the  circumstances 


166  RESIDENCE    AT 

which  influence  or  constitute  national  character.  Without 
pretending-  to  exhaust  the  subject,  I  will  offer  the  following  rea- 
sons for  the  blessings  which  have  visited  our  country,  leaving 
it  to  our  brethren  on  the  other  side  of  the  water  to  determine 
how  far  they  are  distinctive. 

(1.)  The  sovereignty  of  God.  This  land,  which  was  dis- 
covered by  the  light  of  the  Reformation,  (in  other  words,  by 
that  agony  of  the  public  mind  which  a  few  years  after  pro- 
duced the  Reformation,)  seems  to  have  been  reserved  for  the 
asylum  of  the  oppressed  during  the  troublous  times  before  the 
milleniura,  and  as  a  place  where  the  church  might  take  her 
more  glorious  form  and  grow  up  into  millenial  beauty  and 
splendor. 

(2.)  Some  things  have  occurred  in  the  history  of  this  coun- 
try which  favor  such  a  destiny.  The  United  States  were  not 
doomed  to  grow  up  from  barbarism,  bringing  up  with  them 
the  marks  and  clogs  of  a  more  barbarous  state.  They  began 
in  an  enlightened  age,  and  in  possession  of  all  the  knowledge 
and  institutions  of  the  most  enlightened  nation  on  earth. 
The  circumstances  of  their  settlement,  and  still  more  of  the 
revolution,  swept  away  a  thousand  authorities  and  prejudices 
connected  with  long  established  forms,  and  left  them  to  take 
that  shape  which  the  unfettered  reason  of  an  enlightened  age 
approved.  This  advantage  soon  discovered  itself  in  their  civil 
institutions,  in  their  systems  of  education,  and  no  where  more 
than  in  their  rehgion. 

(3.)  No  country  was  ever  settled  by  such  a  colony  as  peo- 
pled New-England.  They  were  among  the  best  part  of  the 
best  nation  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  and  in  its  best  age. 
They  broke  away  from  everything  dear  on  earth  for  the  sake 
of  their  religion ;  they  came  with  unconquerable  attachments 
to  civil  and  religious  liberty,  and  brought  a  mass  of  science 
competent  to  found  those  literary  institutions  which  have  co- 
vered New-England  with  hght,— which  have  excluded  igno- 
rance, and  left  scarcely  a  man  unable  to  read  his  Bible. 
Their  churches,  their  sabbaths,  their  laws,  their  rulers,  their 
colleges,  their  schools,  all  were  subservient  to  religion.     And 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  167 

they  entailed  a  blessing  on  their  posterity  which  proved  that 
they  transacted  with  a  covenant  God.  Their  descendants 
have  been  distinguished  from  all  the  other  inhabitants  of  the 
United  States.  A  part  of  New-Jersey  was  settled  by  the  de- 
scendants of  the  pilgrims,  where  they  have  remained  in  a 
great  measure  unmixed:  and  1  have  seen  the  Spirit  of  God 
repeatedly  pass  through  their  towns,  and  stop  near  the  boun- 
dary which  divided  them  from  another  race.  There  are  fami- 
lies in  New-England,  in  which  an  unbroken  succession  of  pious 
generations  can  be  traced  from  the  first  settlement  of  the  coun- 
try to  the  present  time. 

(4.)  There  are  circumstances  in  our  history  which  have 
given  a  general  bias  in  favor  of  revivals.  In  addition  to  the 
fact  that  New-England  was  born  in  a  revival,  (as  it  was  a  re- 
vival of  religion  which  separated  the  pilgrims  from  their  coun- 
try and  brought  them  hither  ;)  a  strong  impression  was  made 
in  favor  of  revivals  by  the  embalmed  name  of  Whitefield,  and 
the  great  work  of  grace  tinough  the  land  in  his  day.  The 
influence  of  President  Edwards  and  Dr.  Bellamy  in  New- 
England,  of  Presidents  Davies  and  Finley  and  the  Tennents 
in  the  Presbyterian  church,  and  of  the  converts  of  that  day, 
some  of  whom  lived  to  a  good  old  age  and  had  great  weight 
of  character,  (as  the  Rev.  Dr.  John  Rogers  of  New- York;) 
the  influence  of  these  men  with  their  writings,  and  the  wri- 
tings of  their  disciples,  (as  Hopkins  and  West  and  Dvvight  in 
New-England,  and  Dr.  Green  and  others  of  the  Presbyterian 
church,)  have  brought  almost  the  whole  country  to  look  on 
the  revivals  of  that  day  as  the  work  of  God,  and  on  revivals 
in  general  with  veneration  and  desire.  This  opinion  once 
settled,  it  is  natural  for  christians  to  hope  and  pray,  and  strive 
for  those  special  movements  which  are  called  by  this  name. 
And  such  is  the  coincidence  between  natural  and  supernatural 
operations,  that  these  efforts  are  likely  to  succeed. 

(5.)  The  boldness  and  energy  of  New-England,  formed  in 
a  life  of  exercise,  and  under  an  invigorating  sky, — formed 
amidst  the  roughness  of  our  forests,  and  under  the  impulses 
of  unbounded  liberty ;  the  plainness  of  our  republican  man- 


1^  RESIDENCE    AT 

ners,  and  the  matter  of  fact  character  of  our  mental  opera- 
tions, and  of  our  style ;  the  unparalleled  diffusion  of  know- 
ledge, under  which  the  young  grow  up  with  strong  common 
sense,  and  demand  to  be  fed  with  truth  instead  of  sound  ;  all 
these  causes  operate  to  produce  great  plainness,  and  directness 
in  the  public  preaching,  and  to  confine  it  to  a  naked,  pointed, 
condensed  exhibition  of  truth, — of  the  whole  truth  without 
abatement  or  disguise, — even  of  those  parts  which  in  some 
places  would  be  considered  strong  meat.  Thus  "  the  sword 
of  the  Spirit,"  naked  and  glittering,  is  brandished  before  all ; 
and  it  is  not  hkely  to  be  brandished  in  vain. 

(6.)  But  the  most  powerful  means  is  yet  to  be  mentioned. 
It  is  found  in  the  distinct  apprehensions  which  prevail  in  New- 
England  about  the  instantaneousness  of  regeneration,  the  sin- 
fulness of  every  moral  exercise  up  to  that  moment,  and  the 
duty  of  immediate  submission.  Such  a  view  of  things  leads 
the  preacher  to  divide  his  audience  into  two  classes,  and  to  run 
a  strong  and  affecting  line  of  demarcation  between  them. 
When  one  feels  that  the  moral,  sober,  prayerful,  unregenerate 
part  of  his  audience  are  doing  pretty  well,  and  can  afford  to 
wait  a  little  longer  before  they  submit,  he  will  not  be  so  press- 
ing, nor  fall  with  such  a  tremendous  weight  upon  their  con- 
science. When  he  feels  that  they  cannot  do  much  more  than 
they  do,  but  must  wait  God's  time,  he  will  not  annoy  and 
weary  them,  and  make  them  sick  of  waiting,  and  compel  them 
to  come  in.  But  when  one  enters  the  pulpit  under  a  solemn 
sense  that  every  unregenerate  man  before  him,  however 
awakened,  is  an  enemy  to  God,  is  resisting  with  all  his  heart, 
and  will  continue  to  resist  until  he  submits, — that  he  must  be 
born  again  before  he  is  any  better  than  an  enemy,  or  has 
made  any  approaches  towards  holiness ;  when  one  looks 
around  upon  the  unregenerate  part  of  his  audience  and  sees 
that  they  are  under  indispensable  obligations  to  yield  at  once, — 
that  they  have  no  manner  of  excuse  for  delaying, — that  they 
deserve  eternal  reprobation  for  postponing  an  hour ;  when  one 
feels  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  that  there  is  nothing  short 
of  regeneration  that  can  answer  any  purpose,  and  that  he  can- 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  169 

not  leave  his  dear  charge  to  be  turned  from  enemies  of  God 
to  friends  ten  years  hence, — dehvered  from  condemnation  ten 
years  hence, — but  must  see  it  now ;  O  how  he  will  pray  and 
preach !  He  will  give  God  no  rest,  and  he  will  give  sinners 
no  rest;  and  he  will  bring  down  their  immediate  pressing, 
boundless  obligations  upon  them  with  the  weight  of  a  world. 
Under  such  preaching  sinners  must  either  turn  to  God  or  be 
miserable.  There  is  no  chance  for  them  to  remain  at  ease 
this  side  of  infidehty  itself  But  the  doctrine  of  progressive 
regeneration  must  be  attended  with  more  silent  and  gradual 
effects. 

Some  of  these  reasons  apply  with  peculiar  emphasis  to  New- 
England  ;  but  the  sentiments  of  New-England  are  scattered 
far  and  wide  through  the  country,  and  her  influence,  in  every 
thing  relating  to  religion  and  science,  is  felt  to  the  land's  end. 

I  rejoice  to  hear  that  some  of  the  best  and  most  enlightened 
men  in  England  are  solemnly  inquiring  into  the  cause  why 
that  land  of  our  fathers'  sepulchres, — that  glory  of  the  eastern 
world, — is  not  visited  with  stronger  manifestations  of  divine 
power.  It  is  a  token  for  good ;  and  I  hope  and  pray  that  the 
time  may  not  be  far  distant  when  that  beloved  country  shall 
be  drenched  in  the  heavenly  flood,  and  become  the  point  of 
strong  radiations  to  enlighten  and  regenerate  three  quarters  of 
the  globe.  I  am,  my  Dear  Sir,  with  most  perfect  confidence 
and  esteem,  affectionately  yours, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

TO  HIS  CHILDREN. 

Williams  College,  June  28,  1830. 
My  Dear  Children, 

*  *  *  I  have  no  doubt  of  the  great  use  of  the  infant  school 
system  to  children  of  three  and  four,  and  perhaps  to  some  of 
more  advanced  age.  To  all,  of  every  age  below  ten,  it  can- 
not fail  to  offer  some  advantages  of  no  ordinary  sort.  But  it 
is  an  experiment ;  and  those  who  have  studied  the  principles 
of  education  most,  will  think  themselves  obliged  to  keep  their 
eye  upon  it,  and  watch  its  effects  on  different  minds.  The 
Vol.  I.  22 


170  RESIDENCE    AT 

power  and  habit  of  concentrated  attention  are  to  be  ranked 
among  the  most  important  constituents  of  genius;  and  al- 
though much  of  this  depends  on  nature,  much  depends  on 
education.  This  is  a  subject  about  which  intellectual  philoso- 
phers largely  treat ;  and  one  of  the  great  uses  of  mathema- 
tics in  a  system  of  education,  is  to  form  the  habit  of  close  and 
discriminating  attention.  It  is  possible  that  this  new  system 
may  prove  deficient,  and  want  to  be  improved  in  reference  to 
this  matter,  especially  as  relates  to  certain  minds. 
Your  affectionate  father, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

TO  GEORGE  GRIFilN,  ESQ.  AND  HIS  WIFE,  AFTER  THE 
DEATH  OF  THEIR  SON,  REV.  EDMUND  D.  GRIFFIN. 

Williams  College,  Sept.  oth,  1830. 
My  Dear  Brother  and  Sister, 

Since  the  arrival  of  dear  George's  letter  yesterday  after- 
noon, we  have  mingled  our  tears  and  sympathies  with  you  in 
no  ordinary  degree.  This  is  indeed  the  ordering  of  him  whose 
footsteps  are  in  the  mighty  deep  and  whose  ways  are  not 
known.  But  you  know  it  is  the  allotment  of  Infinite  Wisdom 
and  love.  I  pray  that  you  and  your  children  may  be  sup- 
ported. I  know  God  can  make  up  this  loss  a  thousand  fold 
by  the  impartation  of  spiritual  blessings  to  you  and  to  your 
house,  and  I  have  a  strong  hope  that  he  intends  to  do  it.  It 
has  taken  a  hold  of  Charles'  mind,  which  encourages  us  to 
pray  for  him  and  labor  with  him.  I  went  over  to  college  to 
break  it  to  the  poor  boy,  and  broke  it  gradually,  and  invited 
him  to  come  home.  He  did,  and  spent  the  evening,  and  was 
much  overcome.  We  all  had  a  note  for  prayers  put  up  to- 
day, at  the  head  of  which  was  Charles'  name.  He  is  now 
reading  one  of  the  most  pungent  of  President  Edwards'  ser- 
mons. If  only  Charles  can  be  made  a  christian,  Edmund,  if 
he  could  now  speak,  would  say.  It  is  a  good  worth  dying  for. 
But  I  hope  this  for  Francis  and  Mary,  and  the  whole  family. 
It  is  a  great  comfort  to  us  that  the  dear  youth  made  us  a 
visit, — that  we  had  an  opportunity  to  see  him,  and  love  him 


WILLIAMSTOWX.  171 

and  ride  with  him,  and  pay  him  some  few  attentions ;  and 
especially  as  it  aflbrded  George  an  opportunity  to  have  that 
interesting  conversation  with  him  three  weeks  ago  to-day, 
which,  more  than  any  thing  else  before  the  death  scene,  con- 
firmed our  hopes  respecting  the  reality  of  his  religion.  We 
shall  long  cherish  the  remembrance  of  his  visit;  and  the 
scenes  through  which  I  rode  with  him  will  always  be  dear 
and  associated  with  his  name. 

We  regard  it  as  a  very  merciful  providence  that  George 
went  home  with  him,  and  was  present  to  cheer  his  dying  hour, 
and  to  show  other  branches  of  the  family  the  power  of  reli- 
gion in  such  a  scene  of  affliction.  And  yet  his  going  depend- 
ed on  a  very  small  circumstance; — a  new  proof  among  a  mil- 
lion, that  if  God  governs  great  events  he  must  govern  small. 
It  must  be  a  trying  consideration,  that  after  so  much  had  been 
expended  on  his  education,  and  such  high  hopes  were  formed 
of  him,  he  should  be  taken  away  just  as  he  was  prepared  to 
be  useful.  But  he  has  not  lost  his  education.  It  prepared 
him,  I  trust,  for  higher  flights  of  devotion  and  blessedness  in 
his  Father's  kingdom.  And  whether  is  better,  to  be  a  profes- 
sor or  an  angel  ?  These  repeated  strokes,  my  dear  brother  and 
sister,  ought  to  loosen  our  hold  on  earth,  and  make  us  live  the 
rest  of  our  days  for  God  and  eternity ;  and  to  educate  our 
children,  not  so  much  for  the  glories  of  this  world  as  for  the 
glories  of  an  eternal  state ;  and  to  shape  every  part  of  their 
education  with  such  a  reference.  If  I  had  a  million  of  child- 
ren, I  would  rather  train  them  to  take  a  part  in  the  benevo- 
lent operations  of  the  day,  and  in  the  sanctifying  delights  of 
the  prayer  meeting,  than  to  shine  in  assemblies  marked  only 
with  the  spirit  of  this  world.  And  I  doubt  not  that  by  the 
grave  of  your  dear  Ellen  and  Edmund,  it  must  appear  so  to 
you.  Let  me  entreat  you  not  to  suffer  such  an  impression, 
made  in  this  solemn  hour  of  truth,  to  wear  off  without  perma- 
nently influencing  the  life.  Pardon  me  for  this  freedom,  and 
believe  me  to  be,  with  a  bleeding  heart,  and  with  a  heart  that 
always  loves  you,  your  afflicted  and  affectionate  brother, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 


172  RESIDENCE    AT 

TO  HIS  DAUGHTER  MRS.  SMITH. 

Williams  College,  June  15th,  1831. 
My  dear  Louisa, 

*  *  *  The  influence  of  a  mother  upon  the  manners  and 
salvation  of  children,  especially  the  latter,  is  probably  greater 
than  that  of  all  other  created  beings  united.  On  you,  then,  it 
chiefly  depends,  under  God,  what  your  children  shall  be  in 
both  worlds.  If  you  lose  your  authority  over  them,  you  lose 
of  course  the  chief  part  of  your  influence,  and  then  your  child- 
ren lose  the  choicest  means  which  God  has  appointed  for  their 
happiness  here  and  hereafter.  If  you  once  form  such  habits 
of  management  as  to  lose  your  authority,  you  never  can  re- 
gain it;  for  not  only  your  own  habits  will  stand  in  the  way, 
but  the  confirmed  habits  of  depraved  and  untamed  children, 
who  will  no  longer  brook  restraint.  The  present  is  your  form- 
ing period.  Two  or  three  years  to  come  will  settle  the  ques- 
tion unchangeably,  (especially  if  the  habits  are  wrong,)  whe- 
ther you  are  to  have  a  government  which  will  form  your 
children  to  honor,  and  glory,  and  immortality,  or  one  which 
will  leave  their  corruptions  to  take  their  natural  course.  God 
will  certainly  hold  you  answerable  for  those  young  immortals, 
and  for  the  distinguished  talents  which  he  has  given  you  for 
their  benefit.  If  you  have  any  piety,  my  dear  child,  let  it  be 
brought  to  this  bearing.  Make  the  management  of  your 
children  the  object  of  your  most  anxious  exertions,  and  the 
subject  of  your  agonizing  and  unceasing  prayers. 

I  have  not  time  to  go  into  a  full  treatise  on  family  govern- 
ment, but  will  lay  down  the  following  rules  for  your  daily  and 
prayerful  examination. 

I.  Exercise  your  authority  as  seldom  as  possible,  and  in- 
stead of  it  employ  kind  persuasion  and  deliberate  reasoning ; 
but  when  you  exercise  it,  make  it  irresistible. 

II.  Be  careful  how  you  threaten,  but  never  lie.  Threaten 
seldom,  but  never  fail  to  execute.  The  parent  who  is  open- 
mouthed  to  threaten,  and  threatens  hastily,  but  is  irresolute 
to  punish,  and  when  the  child  is  not  subdued  by  the  first 
threat,  repeats  it  half  a  dozen  times  with  a  voice  of  increas- 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  173 

ing  violence,  and  with  many  shakes  and  twitclies  of  the  Uttle 
culprit,  will  certainly  possess  no  authority, 

III.  Avoid  tones  and  gestures  expressive  of  agitation  for  tri- 
vial matters  indicative  of  no  depravity  and  indicating  only 
the  heedlessness  or  forgetfulness  of  children,  or  perhaps  nothing 
more  than  is  common  to  all  young  animals,  a  love  to  use  their 
limbs.  In  all  such  cases  the  tones  should  be  kind  and  persua- 
sive, rather  than  authoritative ;  and  the  severity  and  even  the 
gravity  of  authority  should  be  reserved  exclusively  for  cases  of 
disobedience  or  depravity,  or  for  tiie  prevention  of  serious  evil. 
A  perpetual  fretting  at  children  for  little  things,  will  inevitably 
harden  their  hearts,  and  totally  destroy  parental  authority  and 
influence.  There  never  was  a  fretting  parent,  who  often 
threatened  and  seldom  performed,  that  had  a  particle  of  effi- 
cient government. 

IV.  Establish  the  unchanging  habit  of  not  commanding  a 
child  but  once.  Cost  what  it  may,  break  the  child  down  to 
obedience  to  the  first  command.  And  when  this  is  once  done, 
if  you  are  careful  never  to  let  disobedience  escape  punishment 
of  some  kind  or  other,  and  punishment  that  shall  be  effectual, 
and  triumphant,  you  will  find  it  not  difficult  to  maintain  your 
absolute  autliority. 

Your  aflfectionate  father, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1831,  Doctor  Griffin 
became  deeply  interested  in  reference  to  what  has 
been  commonly  called  the  "New  Divinity."  He 
was  fully  of  the  opinion  that  the  views  which  were 
supposed  to  be  held  by  the  divines  of  that  school 
were  essentially  at  variance,  not  only  with  plain 
scripture,  but  with  sound  philosophy;  and  hence 
he  felt  himself  called  upon  to  take  up  his  pen  in  de- 
fence of  what  he  believed  to  be  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus.  The  result  was,  that  wdthin  a  little  more 
than  a  year,  he  published,  in  connexion  with  this 


174  RESIDENCE    AT 

controversy,  a  sermon  on  "  Regeneration  not  ef- 
fected by  light ;"  a  letter  on  "  the  connexion  be- 
tween the  new  measures  and  the  new  doctrines ;" 
and  a  more  extended  treatise  on  "  Divine  efficien- 
cy." Early  in  1832  he  addressed  the  following  let- 
ter to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Taylor  of  New -Haven,  with  a 
view  to  ascertain  from  himself  the  peculiarities  of 
the  system  which  was  commonly  called  by  his  name. 

Williams  College,  March  6,  1832. 
Rev.  and  Dear  Sir, 

I  was  glad  to  see,  in  the  New- York  Observer,  your  letter 
in  ariswer  to  the  questions  proposed  by  Dr.  Hawes.  Com- 
plaint had  been  made,  you  know,  that  you  did  not  let  the 
whole  length  and  breadth  of  your  theory  out,  and  were  not 
understood.  I  was  glad  therefore  to  see  you  so  explicit.  Still 
there  are  a  few  points  which  I  do  not  yet  understand,  and  on 
which  I  should  deem  it  a  privilege  to  receive  information,  if 
you  have  no  objection  to  give  it.  Divine  truth  is  the  common 
property  of  the  church ;  and  all  the  new  light  that  is  brought 
forward  should  be  so  spread  out  that  every  one  may  examine 
it  fully  for  himself.  I  want  to  examine  your  theory  to  the  bot- 
tom, so  far  as  relates  to  the  great  question  of  creature  dej)end- 
ance,  and  perhaps  may  have  occasion  to  offer  my  views  to  the 
public.  I  wish  for  permission  to  make  any  use  of  your  answer 
which  the  cause  of  truth  may  to  me  seem  to  require ;  and  un- 
less you  forbid  it,  shall  consider  myself  authorized  so  to  act. 

1.  You  say  "  that  the  necessity  of  the  influence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  in  regeneration  results  solely  from  the  voluntary  per- 
verseness  of  the  sinners'  heart."  My  question  is,  Are  not  Ga- 
briel and  Paul  dependant  on  God  for  holiness  ?  not  on  light 
merely,  but  on  the  efficient  power  of  God  acting  on  their  hearts? 

2.  You  say  regeneration  "  is  produced  by  the  influence  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  operating  on  the  mind  through  truth,  and  in 
perfect  consistency  with  the  nature  of  moral  action  and  laws 
of  moral  agency."    On  this  two  questions  arise.    (1.)  What 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  175 

is  meant  by  "  through  truth  ?"  All  allow  that  the  new  exer- 
cises are  put  forth  in  view  of  truth  as  their  object,  and  are  in- 
fluenced by  different  truths  as  their  reasons.  Is  truth  any 
thing  more  in  this  matter?  What  causes  the  exercise  to- 
wards the  truth,  or  in  view  of  the  truth,  to  be  love  rather  than 
hatred  ?  Is  it  God  acting  by  his  own  power  upon  the  mind  1 
Is  it  truth  brought  clearly  into  view  ?  Or  is  it  the  mind  itself 
without  any  other  cause?  (2.)  What  limitation  or  explana- 
tion do  you  mean  by  the  words,  "  and  in  perfect  consistency 
with  the  nature  of  moral  action  and  the  laws  of  moral  agen- 
cy?" If  God  causes  the  creature  to  love  truth  rather  than 
hate  it,  still  the  love  is  the  creature's  own  act,  and  in  it  he  is 
as  free  as  God  himself.  Do  you  mean  any  thing  more  by  the 
above  passage?  Do  you  mean  by  it  to  explain  how  God 
causes  the  mind  to  love  the  truth?  If  so,  what  is  the  expla- 
nation at  large  ? 

3.  You  say,  (under  the  6th  head  of  negatives,)  that  as  a 
moral  agent  the  sinner  is  qualified  so  to  use  the  truth  present- 
ed to  his  mind  as  to  become  holy  at  once.  Do  you  mean  any 
thing  more  than  that  as  a  rational  being  he  has  natural  ahili- 
ty,  and  so  is  reasonably  hound  to  be  holy  at  once?  Do  you 
mean  that  he  ever  will  become  holy,  however  fully  the  truth 
may  be  impressed  on  his  mind,  without  the  power  of  God  ex- 
erted upon  his  heart  ? 

4.  Under  the  third  head  of  your  negatives  you  impliedly 
say,  or  seem  to  say,  that  God  does  not  on  the  whole  prefer 
that  sin  should  exist  rather  than  not  exist ;  and  that  where  it 
does  exist,  he  could  educe  more  good  from  holiness,  if  crea- 
tures '•  would  render  it."  Do  you  mean  to  imply  that  God 
could  not  have  prevented  sin  consistently  with  the  most  per- 
fect freedom  of  creatures  ? 

I  hope,  my  Dear  Sir,  that  you  will  not  deem  it  obtrusive  in 
me  to  propose  these  questions  on  a  subject  so  interesting  to  us 
both  as  the  friends  of  God  and  man,  and  that  you  will  be- 
lieve me  to  be,  most  sincerely. 

Your  friend  and  brother, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 
Rev.  Dr.  N.  W.  Taylor. 


176  RESIDENCE    AT 

The  following  is  Dr.  Taylor's  reply,  and  is  pub- 
lished with  his  consent : 

Yale  College,  March  20th,  1832. 
Rev.  and  Dear  Sir, 

I  received  yours  of  the  6th,  a  few  days  since.  I  regard  it 
as  dictatetl  by  the  love  of  truth,  and  in  no  respect  "  obtrusive." 
I  must  however  excuse  myself  from  complying  with  your  re- 
quest in  one  particular.  I  have  not  time  to  make  the  state- 
ments, the  explanations  and  the  defence  of  my  views  and 
opinions  on  the  points  proposed,  which  I  should  be  willing  to 
make  for  public  controversy.  You  know  the  ambiguities  of 
language,  especially  in  all  attempts  at  philosophical  analysis ; 
and  how  difficult  it  is  to  bring  two  minds  to  understand  terms 
in  the  same  import.  What  I  say  therefore,  (you  have  per- 
mitted me  to  make  this  condition,)  I  say  with  the  injunction 
on  you  to  make  no  use  of  it  whatever  in  any  jmblic  discus- 
S1071.  What  is  published  on  the  subjects  adverted  to,  is  cer- 
tainly all  that  calls  for  public  discussion.  I  hope  you  will  not 
infer  from  this,  that  I  hold  opinions  which  I  am  reluctant  to 
state.  I  have,  I  think,  given  ample  proof  to  the  contrary. 
Your  queries,  if  I  understand  them,  lead  directly  into  an  ana- 
lysis of  moral  agency.  Into  this,  I  have  gone  somewhat  mi- 
nutely in  my  lectures.  It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  go 
over  the  ground  with  you  in  conversation,  and  even  in  a  cor- 
respondence, if  I  had  time.  But  I  cannot  present  my  views 
on  such  a  subject  in  extenso,  on  a  single  sheet,  nor  with  any 
such  minuteness  as  the  object  proposed  seems  to  require.  I 
cannot  consent  to  write  letters  to  my  friends  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  them  my  views  and  opinions,  that  they  may  quote  and 
jmhlish  in  the  exercise  of  their  judgment  merely.  What 
I  say  therefore,  I  say  confiding  in  you  to  make  no  such  use 
of  it. 

You  ask  me,  "  are  not  Gabriel  and  Paul  dependant  on  God 
for  hoUness — not  on  hght  merely,  but  on  the  efficient  power 
of  God  acting  in  their  hearts  ?" — I  should  answer,  that  I  do 
not  remember  any  text  in  the  Bible  which  asserts  this  fact,  in 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  177 

respect  to  Gabriel.  If  therefore  the  fact  be  proved,  it  must  be 
proved  in  the  way  of  philosophical  deduction  ;  and  the  infe- 
rence must  rest  ultimately  on  what  I  esteem  with  Dr.  Dwight, 
the  unauthorized  assumption,  that  God  cannot  create,  and 
has  not  created  an  agent,  a  being  in  one  respect  like  himself, 
viz.  perfectly  qualified  to  act,  constitutionally  considerec^,  with- 
out being  acted  upon,  by  extrinsic  eflficiency.  When  I  speak 
of  this  as  an  unauthorized  assumption,  I  suppose  you  will  dis- 
sent, and  that  many  considerations  will  arise  in  your  mind 
quite  decisive  with  you  to  the  contrary.  Here  then  would  be 
a  main  question.  I  think  I  can  solve  the  snpposed  diflScul- 
ties  on  this  subject,  without  infringing  on  certainty  of  action, 
or  what  Dr.  Edwards  calls  moral  necessity  on  the  one  hand, 
or  on  human  liberty,  as  complete  as  any  one  ever  conceived 
of,  on  the  other.  Put  this  to  the  account  current  of  vanity 
and  presumption,  for  I  have  not  time  to  enter  into  the  deve- 
lopment of  my  views.  In  view  of  what  you  say  in  your  ser- 
mon in  the  National  Preacher,  and  the  queries  in  your  letter, 
the  whole  question  between  us  would,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  re- 
solve itself  into  the  above  question,  respecting  the  possibility  or 
the  fact  of  a  created  agent.  For  aught  I  can  see,  some  con- 
stitutional change  in  man  is  necessary  to  qualify  him — or  to 
give  him  natw^al  ahility,  to  perform  his  duty,  or  it  is  not. 
No  matter  as  to  this  point,  in  what  we  suppose  duty  to  con- 
sist, whether  taste,  disposition,  exercise  or  action  ;  for  still  some 
constitutional  change  is  necessary  to  the  existence  of  that 
called  duty,  or  it  is  not.  If  such  a  change  is  necessary  to  this, 
then  so  long  as  man  is  not  the  subject  of  the  change,  he  is  not 
quahfied — he  has  not  natural  ability  to  perform  his  duty. 
This  constitutional  incompetency,  whether  it  consists  in  the 
want  of  intellect,  or  will,  or  susceptibility,  is  according  to  the 
supposition,  that  which  cannot  in  any  sense  be  reiuoved,  ex- 
cept by  a  literal  act  of  creation  and  its  product.  But  this  is 
not  in  the  power  of  man,  I  ask  then,  if  man  is  the  subject 
of  such  incompetence  or  disqualification  in  respect  to  duty,  will 
not  every  mind  decide  that  the  thing  called  duty  is  a  misno- 
mer? Can  this  consequence  be  avoided,  by  saying  he  can  if 
Vol.  I.  23 


178  RESfDENCE    AT 

he  ivill ;  or  he  can  if  he  iv ere  disposed?  He  can,  what? 
Can  perform  his  duty,  plainly  ;  can  become  the  subject  of  ho- 
liness. And  what  is  this  but  a  right  state  or  act  of  will  ?  To 
say  then,  that  he  can  if  he  will,  is  to  say  that  he  can  will 
right,  if  he  ivills  right.  But  this  implies  either,  that  he  has 
no  power  to  ivill  right  unless  he  actually  wills  right,  which 
is  no  poicer  at  all,  so  long  as  he  does  not  will  right ;  so  that 
if  he  wills  right  he  has  a  new  power ; — or,  it  implies  that  he 
can  will  right  by  willing  to  will  right,  which  is  Arminian 
self-determination.  The  question  then  is  not  to  be  evaded 
by  these  shifts  ;  by  answers  which  mean  nothing  but  what  is 
absurd :  but  it  still  remains  a  plain  simple  question,  viz.  is 
man,  or  is  he  not,  constitutionally  competent ; — is  he,  as  cre- 
ated, endowed  with  every  constitutional  qualification  to  be- 
come morally  perfect  ?  Can  he  will  right  ?  Can  he  become 
rightly  disposed  ?  I  admit  his  moral  inability,  i.  e.  that  per- 
version of  his  natural  ability,  which  is  the  reason,  that  he 
never  will,  if  left  to  himself,  become  rightly  disposed.  Has 
he  then  natural  ability  to  perform  his  duty  7  And  this,  in  my 
view,  is  no  other  than  to  ask  whether  men  are  constitutionally 
quahfied  to  love  God,  as  his  law  requires.  And  this  is  an- 
swered by  the  fact,  that  the  requirement  itself  is  limited  by  the 
very  terms  of  the  law,  to  their  powers,  or  ability.  It  is  as  cer- 
tain that  they  have  a  heart,  a  mind,  a  soul,  a  strength, 
quahfying  them  to  love,  as  that  they  are  required  to  love.  It 
is  according  to  what  a  man  hath,  and  not  according  to  what 
he  hath  not. 

But  now,  on  the  other  hand,  if  no  constitutional  change 
is  necessary  to  qualify  man  to  become  morally  perfect,  then  all 
philosophical  reasoning  founded  on  the  assumption  of  its  ne- 
cessity, is  groundless  and  must  pass  for  nothing. 

I  know  that  many  questions  may  arise  in  your  mind,  when 
it  is  supposed  that  sinful  men  are  constitutionally  qualified  to 
become  morally  perfect.  I  wish  I  could  have  an  opportunity 
with  you  to  try  to  solve  tlie  difficulties.  The  chief  point  about 
which  we  should  differ,  would,  I  think,  respect  what  I  call 
constitutional  (not  moral)  susceptibility  to  the  motives  to  ho- 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  179 

liness,  or  to  the  objects  of  holy  affection.  This  your  scheme, 
if  I  understand  it,  denies,  and  maintains  that  the  only  thin^ 
in  the  sinful  mind  to  which  these  objects  appeal,  or  which  they 
can  touch  or  affect,  is  the  selfish  affection  of  the  heart.  If 
you  have  not  read  on  this  topic,  I  hope  you  will  read  atten- 
tively the  four  articles  in  Christian  Spectator,  1829,  on 
the  Means  of  Regeneration,  the  reply  in  that  work  to  Dr. 
Tyler,  in  the  Nos.  for  March,  p.  147,  and  June,  p.  380,  for 
1830.  Must  there  not  be  a  constitutional  capacity  of  good 
from  an  object,  before  it  can  become  a  motive  ?  Vide  Edwards 
on  the  Will,  part  i.  sec.  5.  Must  there  not  be  excitement  to- 
ward that  good  in  the  form  of  involuntary  (i.  e.  not  volunta- 
ry) desire,  propensity,  &c.  before  choice,  or  love,  or  preference 
is  in  any  sense  possible  ?  Is  there  any  mental  fact  of  which 
we  are  more  certain?  Was  not  the  man  Christ  Jesus,  tempted 
in  all  points  hke  as  we  are?  Is  it  not  intuitive  truth,  that  if 
holiness  or  sin  begin  in  the  human  mind,  and  have  an  ante- 
cedent, in  the  mind,  that  such  antecedent  is  not  itself  holy  or 
sinful  ?  Can  there  be  holiness  before  holiness,  or  sin  before  sin? 
Does  not  the  existence  of  this  constitutional  susceptibility  to 
the  good  in  an  object,  account  for  the  choice  or  love  of  it,  so 
far  as  it  is  necessarj'"  for  this  purpose  to  suppose  any  suscepti- 
bility ?  Compare  Gen.  iii.  6,  and  James,  i.  14,  15.  Does  not 
the  supposition  of  a  moral  (i.  e.  holy  or  sinful)  susceptibility 
prior  to  choice  or  preference,  land  us  in  inextricable  contradic- 
tions and  absurdities  ?  Does  not  the  denial  of  a  constitutional 
susceptibiHty  amount  to  a  denial  of  constitutional  qualifica- 
tion ;  to  the  assertion  of  natural  inability,  or  aside  from  tech- 
nicalities, to  an  incompetence  or  disqualification,  inconsistent 
with  moral  obligation  ?*  Many  seem  to  deny  this  constitutional 
susceptibility,  chiefly  on  two  accounts, — the  one  is,  that  through 
the  medium  of  their  philosophy,  it  looks  like  something  in- 
consistent with  total  depravity.  Whereas,  it  is  obvious  that 
there  can  be  no  total  depravity  without  it.     Not  to  love  God, 

*  Can  it  alter  the  thing  to  call  it,  as  Dr.  Woods  does,  a  moral  constitu- 
tion ? 


180  RESIDENCE    AT 

if  I  have  no  constitntional  susceptihility  to  his  exceliejace, 
implies,  that  the  reason  is  that  1  have  no  motive  to  love  God, 
and  that  it  can  no  more  he  criminal  in  me  not  to  love  him 
than  in  a  tree  or  a  stone ;  while  the  love  of  the  world  or  mam- 
mon, must  in  such  a  case,  be,  not  a  preference  of  one  of  two 
goods,  but  a  mere  instinctive  feeling  or  affection.  How  diverse 
in  respect  to  guilt,  is  this  from  a  preference  of  the  inferior  good 
in  a  being  trulj^  susceptible  to  the  good  in  both,  and  fully  qua- 
lified to  prefer  either  to  the  other?  Here  too  I  might  reverse 
the  case,  and  ask,  how  could  holy  angels  and  holy  Adam  sin, 
on  your  scheme,  without  a  jrrior  change  in  their  mental  con- 
stitution? and  appeal  to  Gen.  iii.  6,  as  the  best  philosophical 
account  of  such  cases,  which  I  have  seen. 

Another  reason  for  denying  my  views  on  this  subject,  is  the 
apprehension,  that  all  will  be  thrown  into  uncertainty — thrown 
into  the  eddies  of  chance.  This  I  deny.  And  why  this  ap- 
prehension in  regard  to  one  1  What  was  the  doctrine  of  pre- 
sident and  Dr.  Edwards,  except  the  simple  certainty  of  ac- 
tion w^ith  'poiver  to  the  contrary.  Is  this  a  novelty  ?  Who  can 
show  the  two  things  to  be  inconsistent  ?  Hie  labor,  &c.  Or  if 
any  can, — who  wnll  be  orthodox,  he  who  holds  moral  neces- 
sity, or  he  who  holds  natural  necessity? 

You  ask,  what  is  meant  by  "  through  the  truth?"  So  it 
seems,  this  scriptural  phrase  is  not  sufficiently  perspicuous ;  at 
least  for  certain  purposes.  I  can  express  my  meaning  in  other 
terms,  whether  more  perspicuously  or  not.  When  I  say,  that 
the  change  in  regeneration  is  through  the  truth,  I  mean,  that 
the  mind,  the  man,  in  view  of  the  object,  God,  which  truth 
presents,  loves  God  supremely ;  or  pi'efers  the  supreme  good 
to  all  inferior  good,  v\?ith  the  objects  of  preference  in  view  as 
the  truth  exhibits  them.  If  this  is  not  intelligible,  I  know  of 
no  terms  that  can  render  it  so,  neither  does  any  other  man. 
But  you  ask,  "  Why  love  rather  than  hate  ?"  I  answer,  this 
fact  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  special  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
without  whose  influence  and  aid  it  would  never  love  God. 
The  question  then  arises,  why  is  this  influence  of  the  Spirit 
necessary  ?  I  answer,  not  because  man  is  not  constitutionally 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  181 

qualified  to  love  God  supremely;  not  because  he  is  not  thus 
qualified  in  every  respect  to  do  the  very  thing  without  this  di- 
vine influence,  which  he  actually  does  with  it.  But  this  in- 
fluence of  the  Spirit,  is  necessary,  because  the  sinner  on  ac- 
count of  the  perverseness  of  his  heart,  the  strength  of  the  sel- 
fish affection,  never  will  love  God  supremely  without  this  in- 
fluence of  the  Spirit.  This  disquaUfication  is  not  constitutional, 
it  is  of  the  sinner's  own  making.  But  how  does  the  Spirit 
secure  this  change?  I  answer,  not  by  acting  on  the  truth — 
not  by  hterally  creating  any  new  property  or  attribute  in  the 
mind, — not  in  a  manner  inconsistent  with  the  nature  of  mo- 
ral action  or  laws  of  moral  agency, — not  in  a  manner  incon- 
sistent with  the  fact,  that  the  sinner's  act  is  the  same  thing  in 
kind,  which  it  would  be,  had  he  done  it  without  a  divine  in- 
fluence: not  by  creating  holiness  before  holiness,  call  it  by 
what  name  we  may.  These  negative  assertions  I  suppose 
we  are  authorized  to  make,  and  that  in  making  them  we  op- 
pose errors  actually  existing.  But  HOW  2)ositively7  I  think 
here  is  a  place  for  caution,  lest  we  assert  what  we  do  not  un- 
derstand or  cannot  prove.  The  question  carries  us  to  the  mo- 
dus operandi,  in  a  sj^ecific  respect,  and  I  think  sets  philoso- 
phy at  defiance.  There  may  be  more  ways  in  which  this 
way  be  done,  by  that  Spirit,  which  searcheth  the  deep  things 
of  God,  than  philosophy  has  dreamt  of.  You  seem  to  me  to 
refer  to  some  specific  way,  when  you  speak  of  "  the  power  of 
God  exerted  on  the  heart?  If  you  mean,  that  God  produces 
a  change  of  heart,  I  say  yes.  And  yet  I  suppose  you  mean 
something  else ;  but  of  your  meaning,  you  will  allow  me  to 
say,  your  language  does  not  convey  the  conception  to  my 
mind.  If  I  was  sure  that  I  received  the  idea  you  intend -to 
express,  I  would  not  hesitate  to  say  what  I  think  of  it.  I  do 
not  say  by  any  means  that  you  have  not  a  distinct  conception 
of  the  thing  expressed.  But  I  do  say,  that  I  have  heard  much 
said  on  the  subject,  which  imparts  no  ideas  to  my  mind,  or  at 
least  noticing  which  we  can  decide  to  be  true.  The  Bible 
seems  to  me  to  teach  very  clearly,  that  the  change  in  regene- 
ration is  a  moral  change,  consisting  in  such  a  state  of  mind 


182  RESIDENCE    AT 

as  I  have  described  in  my  letter  to  Br.  Hawes :  (vide  C.  Spect. 
1832,  p.  171.  Look  at  this  as  explanatory  of  the  different 
terms  used,)  that  it  is  through  the  truth  ;  i.  e.  that  the  mind 
loves,  (fcc.  if  at  all,  with  the  object  in  view  as  it  is,— that  it 
never  does  this,  however,  without  an  influence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  distinct  from  the  natural  or  simple  influence  of  truth  ; 
that  while  such  is  the  constitutional  structure  of  the  mind,  and 
such  the  nature  of  truth,  that  the  latter  is  fitted  to  produce, 
and  tends  to  produce,  hohness  in  the  human  heart,  it  always 
is  and  always  will  be  resisted  and  counteracted  by  the  sinner 
without  the  influence  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  and  that  therefore 
when  the  change  takes  place,  all  the  praise  is  due  to  God. 

But  that  the  Bible  decides,  or  that  philosophy  can  decide  on 
the  modus  operandi  of  the  spirit  in  all  respects,  or  in  any  im- 
portant respect, — ^beyond  what  I  have  stated,  I  do  not  see 
reason  to  admit.  T  can  conceive  of  more  ways  than  one,  in 
which  he  who  created  mind  can  influence  mind.  But  what 
the  actual  way  is,  I  pretend  not  to  know. 

I  have  not  said,  that  God  does  not  on  the  whole  prefer  that 
sin  should  exist,  rather  than  not  exist.  On  the  contrary,  I 
believe  he  does,  i.  e.  that  he  prefers  its  existence  to  its  preven- 
tion by  himself;  and  that  the  reason  may  he,  that  the  non- 
existence of  sin,  i.  e.  its  prevention  by  God,  would  involve 
the  non-existence  of  the  best  system ;  (making  a  distinction 
between  system  and  its  results  in  moral  action.)  If  the  exis- 
tence of  sin  is  incidental,  in  respect  to  divine  prevention  to  the 
best  moral  system,  then  we  can  see  in  what  respect,  or  for 
what  reason,  God  may  have  purposed  the  existence  of  sin, 
without  preferring  sin  under  the  present  system,  to  holiness  in 
its  stead.  As  to  God's  power  to  prevent  sin,  consistently  with 
perfect  free  agency,  I  have  never  said  it,  nor  any  thing  which 
implies  it,  in  this  absolute  form  of  statement.  God  has  such 
power  in  some  cases,  for  he  does  prevent  sin  in  some  cases, 
without  destroying  free  agency.  But  it  is  equally  certain  that 
had  he  prevented  sin  in  all  cases,  or  in  any  case  in  which  it 
has  existed,  he  must  have  altered  the  system.  And  if  he  had 
altered  the  system ; — if,  for  example,  he  had  interposed  by  mi- 


WILLI  AMSTOWN.  183 

racles,  and  brought  Tyre  and  Sidon  to  repentance,  as  he  could 
have  done,  (vide  Matt.  xi.  21,)  no  one  can  prove  that  the  re- 
quisite interposition  would  not,  beyond  prevention  on  the  pait 
of  God,  have  resulted  in  a  vast  increase  of  sin  in  the  moral 
system. 

I  conclusion,  let  me  say,  I  am  altogether  pleased  with  your 
letter ; — and  one  thing  more,  not  inconsistent  with  the  high 
respect  I  entertain  for  your  character,  viz.  you  do  not  seem  to 
me  to  be  well  possessed  of  our  views.  Pardon  me  in  this.  It 
may  be  our  fault,  though  we  think  that  such  cases  admit  of 
another  solution.  I  confide  in  you  to  regard  my  request  in  re- 
spect to  this  letter.  Yours  respectfully, 

N.  W.  TAYLOR. 

TO  THE  REV.  F.  MARSH. 

Williams  College,  Sept.  ISth,  1833. 
My  Dear  Friend, 

I  received  your  kind  and  interesting  letter  of  Aug.  lOth^ 
and  want  to  write  you  a  whole  sheet ;  but  my  health  warns 
me  to  be  short.  I  have  been  much  out  of  health  for  the  greater 
part  of  a  year.  I  have  no  recollection  of  the  conversation  you 
allude  to.  but  I  remember,  and  never  shall  forget,  the  new 
views  of  the  Saviour  I  had  just  had.  Those  views  were  partly 
expressed,  soon  after,  in  a  sermon,  from  Heb.  vii.  26,  which  I 

thought  of  sending  you  by  P if  you  did  not  come  to 

commencement.  But  my  hurry  and  fatigue  let  him  getaway 
without. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  the  good  account,  in  all  respects,  of  your 
dear  deaf  son.  Give  my  love  to  him,  and  tell  him  that  when 
he  kneels  to  pray,  Christ  is  not  deaf. 

I  pray  that  God  may  give  you  those  views  of  Christ  that 
are  both  consohng  and  sanctifying.  I  have  no  doubt  that  you 
will  one  day  have  them  in  perfection.  And  with  your  desire 
and  humility,  if  you  will  ask  more  believingly,  I  doubt  not 
you  will  receive  at  once.  Give  my  love  to  Mrs.  Marsh  and 
all  your  children.        1  am.  Dear  Sir, 

Very  aflfectionately  yours, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 


184  RESIDENCE    AT 

TO  THE  REV.  DR.  AYDELOTT  OF  CINCINNATI. 

Williams  College,  Nov.  6th,  1833. 
Rev.  and  Dear  Sir, 

I  have  just  received  j^our  favor  of  the  25th  ult.  and  was 
gratified  at  the  sight  of  your  signature  and  at  the  approbation 
you  bestowed  on  my  httle  book.*  I  am  sorry  you  did  not 
reach  us  last  fall,  and  beg  you  to  be  assured  that  I  shall  al- 
ways be  happy  to  see  you.  On  the  three  points  about  which 
you  inquire,  I  will  answer  with  the  utmost  pleasure. 

First,  you  understand  ine  to  say  on  p.  79,  "  that  if  the  de- 
pravity of  man  furnishes  the  only  occasion  for  the  divine  in- 
terposition," that  interposition  "must  be  merely  moral  sua- 
sion." Not  exactly  so.  What  I  did  assert  was,  that  all  who 
believe  that  the  Bible  teaches  divine  efficiency  in  respect  to 
men,  will  acknowledge  it  true  in  respect  to  angels :  "  for  those 
who  make  our  depravity  the  only  occasion  for  the  interposition 
of  the  Spirit,  and  thus  limit  his  operations  to  men,  deny  effi- 
ciency altogether,  and  make  that  interposition  a  mere  matter 
of  moral  suasion."  This  is  what  they  do ;  it  is  no  inference 
of  mine.  It  is  a  fact,  I  believe,  that  no  one  doubts  the  appli- 
cation of  divine  efficiency  to  angels  who  believes  it  applied  to 
men :  and  certain  it  is,  that  those  who  deny  its  applicability 
to  men,  do,  in  their  express  theory,  leave  nothing  but  divine 
moral  suasion  both  for  men  and  angels.  This  they  assert ; 
and  in  this  they  are  doubtless  consistent  with  themselves.  I 
was  only  stating  their  theory.  But  it  is  manifest  that  if  no- 
thing but  depravity  gives  occasion  for  divine  efficiency,  that 
efficiency  is  not  applied  to  the  holy  angels,  and  either  they  are 
let  alone  or  are  only  beset  with  divine  moral  suasion.  But 
none  believe  this  who  believe  in  any  thing  more  than  divine 
moral  suasion  in  respect  to  men.  And  even  with  this  belief, 
I  see  not  how  they  can  make  depravity  the  only  occasion  of  a 
treatment  applied  both  to  the  depraved  and  the  spotless. 

Second  point,  relating  to  what  is  said  on  the  103d  p.     Had 
there  been  no  foundation  of  hope,  there  would  have  been 
no  return  to  God ;    for  if  there  had  been  no  Saviour  there 
*  His  work  on  "  Divine  efficiency." 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  iS5 

would  have  been  no  SjDirit  to  sanctify.  It  is  true  also  that  we 
ought  to  love  and  thank  God  for  that  foundation  of  hope  and 
for  all  his  invitations  and  promises ;  because  these  exhibit  the 
real  benevolence  and  excellence  of  his  nature.  But  for  a  son 
who  has  offended  and  abused  an  excellent  parent,  to  say,  I 
cannot  be  sorry  until  I  know  that  my  father  Avill  forgive  me, 
would  be  selfish  and  ignoble,  God  in  his  government  of 
wicked  men,  often  addresses  himself  to  mere  self  love,  for  they 
have  nothing  better  to  address.  And  where  nothing  but  self- 
love  exists,  it  is  dominant  selfishness ;  and  nothing  worse  ex- 
ists in  hell.  There  are  two  ways  in  which  God  addresses  self- 
love.  First,  he  does  it  directly,  as  in  the  case  of  the  wicked ; 
secondly,  he  does  it  indirectly,  as  when,  in  showing  the  mea- 
sures he  has  taken  for  the  happiness  of  his  creatures,  he  shows 
his  own  benevolence,  and  thus  addresses  something  to  a  higher 
principle  than  self  love, — something  to  the  love  of  benevolence 
or  holiness.  The  case  supposed  on  the  103d  p.  was  that  of 
beings  who  had  all  the  excellence  of  God  set  before  them,  and 
all  their  obligations,  (for  the  lost  constantly  violate  obligations, 
or  they  have  no  present  sin,)  and  yet  could  not  love  him  or  re- 
pent because  they  had  no  prospect  of  good  to  themselves. 
And  pray,  whither  would  this  principle  carry  us  ?  If  the  lost 
are  not  reasonably  bound  to  love  God  and  his  creatures  since 
they  are  unchangeably  assigned  to  perdition,  they  violate  no 
obligation  by  withholding  love,  and  under  these  boundless  pro- 
vocations, are  equally  excusable  for  all  their  malice  and  rage. 
But  if  they  are  bound  to  love  God  in  their  hopeless  state,  to 
say  they  cannot  be  influenced  by  truth  to  love,  as  I  cannot 
carry  that  mountain,  is  false ;  for  it  is  saying  they  are  not 
bound  without  hope,  (as  a  man  is  not  bound  to  work  for  me 
without  expectation  of  reward.)  For  if  they  have  no  natural 
ability,  they  have  nothing  to  be  the  basis  of  obligation.  To 
say  that  the  lost  cannot  be  influenced  by  truth  because  they 
have  no  hope,  is  to  say  that  they  cannot  love  God  without  the 
prospect  of  reward,  which  by  an  easy  figure  may  be  called  a 
bribe. 

You  must  know,  my  Dear  Sir,  that  for  the  greater  part  of 

Vol.  I.  24 


186  UESIDENCE    AT 

a  century  the  language  of  some  of  the  old  divines  on  this  sub- 
ject has  been  condemned  by  the  body  of  the  New-England  di- 
vines. That  language  has  seldom  come  to  my  ears  from  liv- 
ing lips,  if  ever.  A  young  man,  however,  once  introduced  it 
into  the  pulpit  in  Newark,  before  I  wenjt  there,  or  in  my  ab- 
sence, and  it  was  long  remembered  as  a  strange  doctrine. 
He  said,  without  hope  we  never  could  have  loved  God.  I 
mention  this  to  show  you  tliat  the  language  of  the  old  divines 
to  which  you  refer,  is  considered  erroneous  by  the  mass  of  the 
churches  in  our  country. 

Third  point.  You  refer  to  p.  193.  1  beg  leave  to  refer  you 
also  to  the  bottom  of  p.  15,  and  to  pp.  181,  182,  183,  and 
middle  paragraph  of  187.  If  future  events  depend  on  God's 
efficient  will,  he  can  foresee  nothing  which  he  has  not  willed. 
For  if  he  has  not  willed  a  thing,  its  existence  is  not  certain, 
and  cannot  be  foreseen  as  certain.  In  regard  to  events  which 
do  not  depend  on  his  controlling  will,  (if  there  be  any  such,) 
in  other  words,  which  are  independent  of  his  will,  all  I  can 
say  is,  ii  is  impossible  for  us  to  conceive  how  he  could  foresee 
them.  1  rest  nothing  here  on  the  impossibility  of  creating  a 
self-determining  power,  though  that  would  seem  like  impart- 
ing self-existence.  The  popular  expression,  that  omniscience 
foresees  all  possible  events,  is  very  deceptive,  without  explana- 
tion. If  it  means,  that  God  knows  all  the  events  which  he 
could  bring  to  pass,  it  is  true.  If  it  means  that  he  foresees 
whatever  he  has  willed  to  produce,  or  to  suffer  when  his  per- 
mission would  secure  the  event,  it  is  true.  But  if  it  means 
that  he  foresees  events  which  belong  to  neither  of  these  class- 
es,— events  which  are  not  possible  as  being  within  the  reach 
of  his  power,  but  possible  as  being,  though  independent  of 
him,  within  the  reach  of  creative  power ;  then  I  observe  two 
things ;  first,  no  such  independent  power.  I  suppose,  is  possi- 
ble ;  secondly,  if  it  were,  we  cannot  conceive  how  God  could 
foresee  events  wholly  independent  of  his  efficient  power  or  ef- 
fectual permission. 

Thus,  my  Dear  Sir,  I  have  answered  your  three  questions 
as  well  as  I  could,  in  a  very  disordered  state  of  my  head  and 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  187 

nervous  system,  and  with  the  many  avocations  wliich  con- 
stantly call  me  away.     I  hope  yom-  reflections  will  add  much 
light  to  these  imperfect  thoughts,  and  am,  with  great  regard, 
Your  friend, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

To  Dr.  L.  A.  Smith,  in  reply  to  an  invitation  to 
return  to  Newark  and  reside  in  his  family. 

Williams  College,  Oct.  8th,  1835. 
My  Dear  Son, 

Your  most  affecting  letter  of  the  28th  ult.  was  received  on 
Monday,  and  the  kindness  of  you  and  Louisa  so  affected  my 
nerves  that  I  scarcely  slept  at  all  on  Monday  night.  I  thank 
you  both  with  all  a  father's  love.  The  offer  was  manifestly 
hearty  and  most  delicately  expressed.  I  never  for  a  moment 
contemplated  going  into  your  family,  for  I  thought  it  would 
not  be  convenient  for  you ;  and  I  fully  believed  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  me  to  live  any  where  in  Newark  on  my  in- 
come. But  Newark  is  the  place  of  all  others  which  I  would 
choose  for  my  residence,  and  your  house  is  the  house  of  all 
others  which  I  would  select  in  Newark.     ****** 

*  *  If  I  come,  all  my  posterity  would  be  under  your  roof. 
I  should  wish  to  talk  and  pray  with  the  children  once  a  day, 
and  set  myself  in  earnest  to  promote  their  salvation.  And 
there  is  another  matter  which  I  will  ask  leave  to  mention. 
My  conscience  cannot  let  go  the  second  service  at  the  table, 
unless  I  am  compelled  by  necessity.  Should  you  have  any 
objection  to  my  performing  that  service,  reserving  to  yourself 
the  right  of  retiring  when  business  calls  you  ?  I  shall  hope 
to  divide  the  family  services  with  you. 

I  have  the  same  view  as  you  have  respecting  the  impor- 
tance of  my  staying  here  while  I  have  health  to  be  useful  to 
the  college.  I  think  I  shall  stay  at  all  events  till  next  com- 
mencement. If  it  then  appears  that  I  cannot  attend  recita- 
tions for  the  next  year,  I  think  I  ought  to  retire.  Besides,  I 
want  to  prepare  my  MSS.  for  the  press,  and  perhaps  shall 


188 


RESIDENCE    AT 


find  in  that  employment  work  enough  for  the  remainder  of 
life.  ********* 

Your  affectionate  father, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

Jan.  17 tk,  1836.  In  the  great  fire  in  New- York  a  few 
weeks  ago,  I  lost  about  $2,400,  which  led  me  to  think  it  was 
the  will  of  God  that  I  should  remain  here  longer ;  for  on  ac- 
count of  my  health  I  had  nearly  made  up  my  mind  to  leave 
after  next  commencement.  The  loss  led  me  to  hope  that  God 
intended  to  improve  my  health,  so  that  I  could  continue  to  la- 
bor for  him  here,  I  have  seen  his  will  in  this  dispensation, 
and  have  certainly  been  resigned  to  it.  I  would  not  change 
the  circumstances  if  I  had  it  in  my  power.  I  was  affected  in 
reading  Heb.  xii.  5-11;  particularly  the  following  words: 
"  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and  scourgeth  every 
son  whom  he  receiveth.  If  ye  endure  chastening,  God  deal- 
eth  with  you  as  with  sons ;  for  what  son  is  he  whom  the  fa- 
ther chasteneth  not  ?  We  have  had  fathers  of  our  flesh  which 
corrected  us.  They  verily  chastened  us  after  their  own  plea- 
sure ;  but  he  for  our  profit,  that  we  might  be  partakers  of  his 
holiness.  Now  no  chastening  for  the  present  seemeth  to  be 
joyous,  but  grievous ;  nevertheless  afterward  it  yieldeth  the 
peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness  unto  them  which  are  exercised 
thereby."  The  kindness  of  my  heavenly  Father  in  this  chas- 
tisement has  appeared  very  tender;  and  I  have  begged  of  him 
to  continue  to  chastise  me  as  much  as  I  need.  I  never  before 
was  so  much  affected  by  the  anecdote  of  the  man  who,  when 
cast  down,  gave  as  the  reason,  "  I  fear  my  heavenly  Father 
has  forsaken  me ;"  and  when  asked  why  he  thought  so,  re- 
plied, "  It  is  a  whole  month  since  my  heavenly  Father  aflJiict- 
ed  me." 

I  never  in  my  life  have  more  deeply  realized  the  duty  of 
casting  myself  wholly  on  God  for  support  and  for  every  thing. 
This  I  have  done ;  and  have  felt  as  I  never  did  before,  that 
wonderful  passage  in  Luke,  xii.  22-31  :  "  Take  no  thought 
for  your  Ufe. — Consider  the  ravens. — Consider  the  lihes. — 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  189 

How  much  more  will  he  clothe  you,  O  ye  of  little  faith.  And 
seek  not  ye  what  ye  shall  eat  or  what  ye  shall  drink,  neither 
be  ye  of  doubtful  mind.  For — your  Father  knoweth  that  ye 
have  need  of  these  things."  '  O  how  different  was  that  pas- 
sage intended  to  make  us  from  what  we  usually  are,  in  re- 
gard to  dependance  on  God  and  submission  to  him,  and  trust 
in  him,  by  the  hour, — by  the  minute.  Such  a  constant  ac- 
tion of  the  mind  towards  God  in  prayer  and  praise,  I  have 
seen  lo  be  intended  by  I.  Thess.  v.  17,  18.  "Pray  without 
ceasing.  In  every  thing  give  thanks."  I  do  not  mean  that 
we  should  think  of  nothing  else ;  but  at  every  change  of 
measures,  when  we  are  alone,  and  not  employed  in  study, 
and  frequently  at  other  times,  we  should  pray  and  give 
thanks. 

Several  months  ago  I  was  deeply  interested  by  Christ's  re- 
presentation of  the  Father's  willingness  to  answer  prayer,  par- 
ticularly for  the  Holy  Spirit,  where  there  is  importunity.  I 
have  been  interested  in  it  ever  since.  But  I  found  some  diffi- 
culty in  believing  that  he  would  assuredly  answer  my  prayers, 
from  a  doubt  whether  they  proceeded  from  holy  love.  But  I 
have  lately  had  such  a  sense  of  the  real  love  of  God,  that  I 
have  deeply  felt  that  be  is  more  ready  to  give  the  Holy  Spirit 
to  them  that  importunately  ask  him,  than  parents  are  to  give 
bread  to  their  imploring  and  hungry  children.  The  passage 
is  in  the  first  thirteen  verses  of  the  xii.  of  Luke.  The  disci- 
ples had  asked  the  Saviour  to  teach  them  to  pray.  He  had 
given  them  the  form  of  the  Lord's  prayer.  He  then  added  the 
case  of  the  man  who  prevailed  to  boriow  three  loaves  by  his 
"  importunity."  Then  follow  these  words  :  "  And  I  say  unto 
you.  Ask  and  it  shall  be  given  you ;  seek  and  ye  shall  find ; 
knock  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you.  For  every  one  that 
asketh  receiveth,  and  he  that  seeketh  findeth,  and  to  him  that 
knocketh  it  shall  be  opened.  If  a  son  shall  ask  bread  of  any 
of  you  that  is  a  father,  will  he  give  him  a  stone  ? — If  ye  then, 
being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your  children, 
how  much  more  shall  your  heavenly  Father  give  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him." 


190  RESIDENCE    AT 

Jan.  24.  The  last  week  I  have  seen  and  felt  the  truth  of 
that  passage  in  Rom.  v.  3,  4.  "We  glory  in  tribulation  also ; 
knowing  that  tribulation  worketh  patience,  and  patience  ex- 
perience, and  experience  hope."  Afflictions  have  made  me 
feel  that  God  had  sent  them,  and  have  made  me  submit  in 
patience  and  in  trust ;  and  that  experience  has  made  me  hope 
in  God  as  a  reconciled  Father.  The  more  I  am  afflicted,  the 
more  I  cast  myself  upon  God,  and  the  more  I  submit  to  him 
and  trust  in  him.  O  that  heavenly  lesson,  to  "  pray  without 
ceasing,"  and  "  in  every  thing "  to  "  give  thanks."  How 
much  I  have  lost  by  not  learning  that  lesson  more  perfectly 
before. 

My  sins  have  appeared  most  aggravated  and  innumerable. 
I  believe  my  afflictions  have  been  sent  on  their  account ;  and 
the  good  effects  of  these  have  made  me  hope  that  my  sins  are 
pardoned  and  forever  removed.  And  I  have  often  prayed, 
and  prayed  with  hope,  that  my  past  transgressions  may  never 
rise  again  between  God  and  me.  I  do  hope  to  enjoy  his  pre- 
sence more  than  I  have  done,  and  to  be  enabled  to  submit  to 
him,  and  trust  in  him  in  all  things, — to  "  pray  without  ceas- 
ing," and  "in  every  thing"  to  "give  thanks."  I  must  thus 
submit,  and  trust  and  pray  and  give  thanks,  if  I  am  to  enjoy 
this  access  to  God  without  a  middle  wall  of  partition  between 
us. 

Jan.  31.  I  have  been  favored  of  late  with  a  spirit  of  submis- 
sion to  the  will  of  God,  and  trust  in  him  for  all  needed  com- 
forts. My  mind  has  so  habitually  moved  in  these  two  ways 
that  I  have  continually  referred  every  thing  to  his  will  in  sub- 
mission and  trust.  And  it  has  led  to  continual  prayer  and 
thanksgiving.  I  am  truly  grateful  to  God  for  the  afflictions 
he  has  sent  upon  me  ;  and  cordially  desire  that  he  should  ap- 
point my  trials  rather  than  to  order  my  own  circumstances. 
This  has  led  to  peace.  1  have  found  in  some  measure  the 
truth  of  that  assertion,  "  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace 
whose  mind  is  stayed  on  thee,  because  he  trusteth  in  thee." 
In  consequence  of  this  referring  of  all  things  to  the  will  of  God, 
his  providence,  in  a  number  of  instances,  has  remarkably  in- 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  191 

terposed  to  provide.  His  truth  and  faithfulness  have  distinctly 
appeared.  My  hope  has  been  so  strong  that  I  have  not  been 
afraid  to  die.  If  I  am  to  live,  I  pray  that  I  may  have  health 
to  devote  to  his  service  with  a  zeal  and  success  unknown  be- 
fore. If  I  am  to  do  no  more  for  him,  I  pray  him  to  take  me 
to  himself.  I  have  been  very  much  affected  with  a  sense  of 
gratitude ;  and  so  far  as  I  can  obtain  distinct  views  of  his  per- 
fections I  do  certainly  approve  of  them,  and  think  I  love  them. 
I  would  not  have  them  altered  for  any  consideration  ;  nor 
would  I  have  any  other  one  to  order  the  circumstances  of  my 
life. 

I  have  been  tried  with  the  circumstance  that  so  many  mil- 
hons  must  endure  such  eternal  anguish  when  God  could  have 
prevented  sin.  Of  late  I  have  risen  above  this  trial.  In  ex- 
amining the  feelings  which  I  have  towards  the  moral  attri- 
butes of  God,  I  have  found  it  necessary  to  examine  those  at- 
tributes distinctly,  and  with  a  marked  reference  to  the  ques- 
tion— Why  is  there  a  hell  ?  The  examination  has  opened  to 
me  the  following  views. 

God  is  infinite  benevolence.  This  is  certainly  most  glori- 
ous and  lovely.  He  cannot  of  course  bear  to  see  creatures 
rising  up  against  each  other  in  rage  and  war,  but  must  de- 
light in  seeing  them  love  one  another,  and  in  seeing  the  hap- 
piness thus  produced.  This  is  his  holiness,  and  it  is  only  a 
particular  operation  of  his  benevolence.  This  certainly  is 
lovely.  The  only  question  now  remaining  is  about  a  moral 
government.  Was  it  benevolent  for  God  to  make  a  law  re- 
quiring love  in  creatures  towards  him  and  towards  each  other, 
and  forbidding  the  opposite  passions  and  conduct  J  If  he  had 
not  made  such  a  law,  he  would  have  stood  aloof  from  crea- 
tures, and  had  no  more  connexion  with  them  than  the  su- 
preme God  of  the  Brahmins  is  supposed  to  have.  And  then 
all  exhibitions  of  his  glory,  and  all  intercourse  with  him,  which 
together  constitute  the  happiness  of  the  universe,  would  have 
been  lost.  And  what  then  would  have  prevented  creatures 
from  rising  up  against  each  other  in  everlasting  war  and  con- 
fusion and  wretchedness?  Do  you  say,  his  sanctifying  power 


192  RESIDENCE    AT 

could  have  prevented?  And  would  not  that  have  converted 
the  whole  creation  into  mere  machines?  No  call  for  the  exer- 
tion of  their  rational  faculties  in  a  way  of  dirty,  no  sense  of 
obligation  ;  only  they  are  propelled  to  certain  feelings  and  ac- 
tions by  a  secret  influence.  Where  is  the  operation  of  their 
reason  or  conscience?  Where  is  their  sense  of  right  and  wrong? 
Where  is  their  holiness  ?  Nothing  rising  above  mere  instinct. 
You  say,  he  might  have  told  them  what  was  right,  without 
command  or  penalty.  But  that  would  have  left  them  with- 
out obligation, — certainly  without  any  of  those  infinite  obhga- 
tions  resulting  from  his  authority.  It  would  have  left  them 
altogether  loose  from  him,  without  any  chance  for  the  exhibi- 
tions of  his  glory,  or  for  intercourse  and  commimion  with  him. 
And  if  there  must  be  a  law,  there  must  a  penalty ;  otherwise 
it  is  no  law  but  mere  advice.  And  if  there  must  be  a  penal- 
ty, that  penalty  must  be  executed,  or  it  is  nothing.  Let  it  be 
given  out  or  understood  that  the  penalty  is  never  to  be  exe- 
cuted, and  the  penalty  is  dead,  and  the  law  is  turned  into 
mere  advice.  Had  the  death  of  Christ  given  out  that  the  pe- 
nalty was  never  to  be  executed,  it  would  have  destroyed  the 
penalty  and  the  law.  There  must  be  a  hell  or  there  is  no 
moral  government.  And  if  no  moral  government,  there  is  no 
intercourse  or  communion  between  God  and  creatures.  Had 
matters  been  left  thus,  there  would  have  been  no  chance  for 
all  that  wonderful  manifestation  of  God  and  that  unspeakable 
happiness  to  creatures  which  result  from  the  work  of  redemp- 
tion. The  benevolence  of  God  was  therefore  engaged  to  ex- 
ecute the  penalty  of  the  law  by  an  eternal  hell.  I  say  eter- 
nal, for  if  at  any  future  time  punishment  should  terminate, 
and  it  should  be  given  out  that  the  penalty  of  the  law  should 
no  more  be  executed,  that  moment  the  moral  government  of 
God  v/ould  cease.  And  if  there  must  be  a  hell,  sin  must  be 
permitted. 

Now  the  execution  of  the  penalty  of  the  law  is  the  exercise 
of  God's  justice.  If,  then,  the  support  of  government  by  the 
punishment  of  sin  is  benevolent,  his  justice  is  only  another  ex- 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  193 

ercise  of  his  benevoleace.  Thus  his  holiness  and  justice  are 
both  comprehended  in  this  glorious  truth,  "  God  is  love." 

These,  with  the  goodness  exercised  in  creation  and  provi- 
dence, and  the  mercy  and  truth  manifested  in  the  gospel,  com- 
prehend the  whole  of  God's  moral  perfections.  And  these  ap- 
pear to  me  glorious.  I  could  not  wish  nor  bear  to  have  one 
of  them  changed.  Let  such  a  God  forever  reign  and  be  glo- 
rified. 

Feb.  2d.  The  perfections  of  God, — his  benevolence,  holiness, 
and  justice,  and  his  moral  government,  have,  since  I  wrote 
last,  appeared  more  glorious  than  ever.  He  is  such  a  God  as 
I  heartily  approve.  I  love  him  and  thank  him  adoringly.  I 
submit  to  his  providence ;  I  trust  in  him  who  feeds  the  ravens, 
and  clothes  the  lilies,  and  am  at  peace.  I  find  my  heart  swel- 
ling with  love  and  gratitude  to  God,  and  with  good-will  and 
kindness  towards  all  men,  as  I  never  did  before.  This  morn- 
ing I  spoke  to  a  young  man  about  that  world  of  love  and  ho- 
liness to  which  I  wished  him  to  go.  My  heart  bounded  at  the 
thought  of  a  world  of  everlasting  love  and  holiness,  and  I  re- 
peated the  w^ords  over.  I  felt  that  I  wished  no  other  heaven 
but  that,  I  rejoice  to  be  in  God's  hands,  and  have  no  anxiety 
about  any  future  circumstances  in  life,  I  leave  every  thing  at 
his  disposal,  with  a  confidence  that  he  will  provide  for  me. 
My  sins  have  lately  appeared  exceedingly  aggravated,  I  ab- 
hor myself,  and  repent  in  dust  and  ashes,  I  have  often  ask- 
ed, and  with  hope,  that  past  sins  may  never  rise  again  between 
God  and  me.  I  do  hope  they  never  will.  I  long  to  have  ray 
health,  and  to  devote  my  health  and  strength  to  the  advance- 
ment of  God's  kingdom  and  glory ;  with  a  zeal  and  success 
unknown  before.  If  I  am  not  to  labor  for  him  any  more  I 
am  willing  he  should  take  me  to  himself 

Feb.  7th.  Some  time  ago  I  was  troubled  with  the  thought 
that  if  I  should  be  pardoned  up  to  this  time,  my  future  sins, 
which  will  be  constant,  will  stand  between  me  and  God.  A 
few  days  ago.  while  reading,  that  passage,  Heb.  x.  14,  opened 
upon  me  most  convincingly:  "For  by  one  offering  he  hath 
perfected  forever  them  that  are  sanctified."     I  think  I  certain- 

Vol.  I.  25 


194  RESIDENCE    AT 

ly  had  faith  that  the  one  sacrifice  of  Christ  would  remove 
from  those  who  are  once  sanctified,  the  guilt  of  all  future,  as 
well  as  all  past  sins.  My  faith  in  Christ  of  late  has  been  much 
more  clear  than  it  commonly  has  been.  I  find  it  easy  to  re- 
alize that  the  death  of  Christ,  by  answering  the  purpose  of 
our  punishment,  is  the  ground  of  our  pardon ;  that  his  obe- 
dience obtained  for  us  all  positive  blessings ;  that  he  is  the 
ground  of  our  acceptance  with  God ;  that  as  King  of  Zion 
he  distributes  the  whole  estate,  and  may  be  approached  in 
prayer,  as  God  himself,  for  all  needed  blessings.  All  this  is 
a  delightful  reality. 

In  connexion  with  this,  the  other  day  while  reading  in  the 
Psalms,  a  verse  respecting  God's  truth  delighted  me  with  a 
realizing  sense  of  that  perfection.  I  forget  what  verse  it  was, 
but  it  was  one  Kke  the  following:  "For  thy  mercy  is  great 
unto  the  heavens,  and  thy  truth  unto  the  clouds."  "  His  truth 
shall  be  thy  shield  and  buckler."  "  Happy  is  he  that  hath 
the  God  of  Jacob  for  his  help, — which  keepeth  truth  forever." 
*'  Let  thy  loving  kindness  and  thy  truth  continually  preserve 
me."  I  have  since  had  a  most  impressive  and  delightful  sense 
of  the  truth  of  God. 

The  benevolence,  holiness,  justice,  mercy,  and  truth  of  God 
appear  real  and  delightful;  and  his  moral  government  appears 
glorious.  I  find  an  habitual  submission  to  him,  and  trust  in 
him  for  all  needed  blessings  ;  and  look  to  him  to  guide  me  in 
the  path  of  duty.  I  long  for  higher  degrees  of  sanctification. 
I  love  to  be  in  his  hands,  and  feel  safe  there,  without  anxiety 
for  future  provisions  for  this  life.  "  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in 
perfect  peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  thee,  because  he  trust- 
eth  in  thee."  I  feel  more  benevolence  and  tenderness  towards 
my  fellow  men,  more  patience  in  view  of  their  faults,  more 
meekness  and  humility.  I  read  the  Bible  with  more  faith, 
and  pray  with  more  delight  and  more  confidence  in  God.  I 
think  I  am  enabled,  in  some  measure,  to  comply  with  the  in- 
junction in  Phil.  iv.  6,  7,  and  to  enjoy  the  peace  there  pro- 
mised. "  Be  careful  for  nothing,  but  in  every  thing  by  prayer 
and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving,  let  your  requests  be  made 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  195 

known  unto  God.  And  the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all 
understanding,  shall  keep  your  hearts  and  ininds  through 
Christ  Jesus." 

When  I  sat  down  to  write  my  treatise  on  Divine  Efficiency, 
I  was  out  of  health,  and  was  so  lame  that  I  could  take  no 
exercise.  It  occurred  to  me  that  lo  write  that  book  without 
exercise  might  cost  me  my  life.  But  I  was  so  affected  with 
the  dishonor  cast  on  God  by  denying  him  the  glory  of  effi- 
ciently sanctifying  the  heart,  that  I  said  with  tears,  I  will  write 
this  book  and  die,  meaning  I  will  write  it  if  I  die.  I  wrote  it 
with  a  tender  regard  for  the  divine  glory  which  I  was  defend- 
ing. 1  never  wrote  a  book  with  so  much  feeling  of  this  sort, 
nor  a  sermon  except  one.  I  mean  the  Murray-street  Sermon, 
from  1  Cor.  i.  31,  written  in  1830.     I  wrote  that  with  my  eye 

on  Dr.  W ,  then  an  infidel,  and  sick  with  what  proved 

his  last  sickness.  I  was  most  deeply  affected  through  the 
whole  of  it,  and  wrote  it  with  a  strong  desire  for  the  convic- 
tion and  salvation  of  Dr.  W.  He  had  just  before  resisted  my 
argument  with  vehemence  if  not  with  passion.  After  I  had 
finished  my  sermon  I  read  it  to  him  at  two  different  sittings — 
half  at  a  time.  He  never  resisted  afterwards ;  and  gave  such 
evidence  of  conversion  and  faith  that  his  pious  wife  and  other 
pious  friends  have  no  doubt  that  he  went  to  heaven. 

Feb.  lAth.  I  have  been  affected  of  late  by  that  passage  in 
Eph.  V.  22-33.  The  Church  is  Christ's  spouse,  whom  he 
loves  as  his  own  flesh.  •'  We  are  members  of  his  body,  of  his 
flesh,  and  of  his  bones,"  Then  certainly  Christ's  love  to  be- 
hevers  must  be  constant,  boundless  and  unchangeable.  And 
the  Father,  regarding  them  as  the  very  flesh  of  Christ,  must 
feel  an  infinite  nearness  to  them, — of  course  for  Christ's  sak€. 
Contemplating  them  as  the  body  of  Christ,  and  of  course  dear 
to  the  Father  because  Christ  is  dear,  I  have  found  it  easy  to 
realize  that  we  are  loved  and  accepted  for  Christ's  sake.  There 
is  one  between  us  and  God,  who  is  the  medium  through 
which  he  views  us, — who  is  infinitely  dear  to  the  Father,  and 
is  the  real  ground  of  our  acceptance,  and  of  every  favor  sent 
upon  us.  All  this  is  real  to  my  mind.  Can  it  be  otherwise 
than  faith  ? 


196  RESIDENCE    AT 

And  if  I  have  been  distinguished  from  my  former  compa- 
nions, who  were  left  to  perish,  by  a  principle  of  life  and  a  title 
to  heaven,  what  boundless  and  eternal  obligations  has  it  laid 
me  under !  Everlasting  thanks  to  God  !  May  all  my  pow- 
ers be  devoted  to  his  service  and  praise.  My  heart's  desire  is, 
that  for  the  rest  of  my  life  I  may  give  up  the  world  and  be 
wholly  his, — that  I  may  submit  to  him  and  trust  in  him  for  all 
things,  and  that  my  past  sins  may  never  again  rise  between 
him  and  me. 

Feh.  17th.  Those  words  in  Phil.  ii.  3,  4,  "In  lowhness  of 
mind  let  each  esteem  other  better  than  themselves.  Look 
not  every  man  on  his  own  things,  but  every  man  also  on  the 
things  of  others ;"  have  of  late  been  made  special  to  my  mind, 
as  reminding  me  of  my  duties  to  my  fellow-men.  O  God, 
may  I  subject  my  own  interests  and  feelings  to  the  interests 
and  feehngs  of  others  as  far  as  thy  word  requires  ;  and  may  _ 
I  keep  this  law  ever  before  me ! 

I  have  had  this  winter  turns  of  dizziness  and  faintness. 
Two  days  ago  I  had  a  turn,  and  wholly  lost  myself, — for  how 
many  seconds  I  cannot  tell.  The  physicians  apprehend  apo- 
plexy. It  has  produced  upon  me  a  solemn  impression  that  I 
must  hold  myself  ready  for  a  sudden  death.  Lord,  may  I  be 
prepared  to  resign  my  spirit  into  thy  hands  without  a  moment's 
warning ! 

Feh.  25th.  I  have  been  struck  lately  with  two  passages,  en- 
couraging an  unlimited  trust  in  God.  The  first  is  in  Hebrews 
xiii.  5,  6.  "Let  your  conversation  be  without  covetousness, 
and  be  content  with  such  things  as  ye  have ;  for  he  hath  said, 
I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee.  So  that  we  may 
boldly  say.  The  Lord  is  my  helper,  and  I  will  not  fear  what 
man  shall  do  unto  me."  The  other  is  in  1  Peter,  v.  7. 
"Casting  all  your  care  upon  him,  for  he  careth  for  you." 
Surely  we  may  and  ought  to  trust  in  God  for  all  things,  even 
in  the  darkest  times.  There  is  no  extravagance  in  this,  un- 
less we  indulge  in  unreasonable  desires  and  expectations ;  as 
if  we  should  trust  in  him  for  an  independent  fortune.  The 
xxxviith  Psalm  is  throughout  of  the  same  kind. 


WILLIAMSTOWK.  197 

This  is  the  day  of  fasting  and  prayer  for  the  colleges.  O 
God,  help  me  to  pray,  and  help  the  great  body  of  christians  to 
pray,  for  the  permanent  effusions  of  the  Spirit  upon  our  col- 
leges and  schools  !  And  may  great  effects  follow  from  the  ex- 
ercises of  this  day. 

Feb.  26th.  In  offering  thanksgiving  to  God  to-day  I  was 
struck  with  the  thought  that  this  exercise,  truly  performed,  is 
really  the  exercise  of  gratitude  in  that  view  of  his  perfections 
and  their  operations  which  produces  love,  or  is  love ;  and  that 
if  I  wished  to  be  filled  with  gratitude  and  love  to  God,  to  be 
really  holy,  the  most  effectual  way  was  to  be  much  employed 
in  thanksgiving.  The  subject  opened  upon  me  in  a  light  en- 
tirely new,  and  convinced  me  that  I  had  not  enough  dwelt  oa 
this  part  of  my  duty  in  prayer. 

TO  DR.  L.  A.  SMITH. 

Williams  College,  Feb.  26th,  1836. 
My  Dear  Son, 

*  *  *  *  Eight  or  ten  days  ago  I  had  a  faint  turn  and 
entirely  lost  myself  for  a  second  or  two,  attended  with  a  labor 
in  breathing.  I  have  had  such  turns,  more  shghtly,  often  this 
winter,  occasioned,  I  believe,  by  writing  and  intense  thought, 
and  perhaps  bending  to  write.  I  have  transcribed  36  sermons 
since  quite  late  in  October.  I  am  afraid  of  apoplexy,  and  so 
is  Dr.  Emmons.  I  must  hold  myself  ready  for  a  sudden 
death.  I  never  had  such  views  as  I  have  had  since  my  loss, 
and  especially  since  my  faint  turn.  I  have  had  nearly  the 
full  assurance  of  hope,  and  have  felt  not  afraid  to  die.  A  col- 
lection of  Scripture  texts  which  have  been  made  very  special 
to  me,  I  want  to  send  to  Louisa,  and  think  I  shall  ere  long. 
I  have  often  said,  and  generally  thought,  that  I  would  not 
have  that  afflictive  providence  changed  for  a  thousand  worlds. 

Your  affectionate  father, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

March  20th.  It  appears  more  and  more  important  to  ad- 
dress the  Saviour  on  his  throne,  and  to  thank  him  for  coming 
down  to  the  agonies  of  the  cross,  and  to  ask  of  him  sanctifi- 


198  RESIDENCE    AT 

cation  and  pardon.  He  is  "  the  author  and  finisher  of  our 
faith."  and  was  enabled  to  be  both  "  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour 
for  to  give  repentance  to  Israel  and  forgiveness  of  sins."  As 
mediatorial  King  he  has  power  to  distribute  all  the  blessings 
which  come  through  his  atonement,  or  which  he  purchased 
by  his  obedience.  I  think  I  certainly  depend  on  him  as  the 
ground  of  all  that  I  hope  to  receive,  and  feel  that  it  is  the  Fa- 
ther's love  to  the  Son,  and  his  love  to  the  body  and  members 
of  his  Son  from  his  love  to  the  Head,  (as  well  as  his  own  in- 
finite benevolence,)  which  induces  him  to  give  us  the  Holy 
Spirit  and  all  other  positive  blessings.  If  I  do  not  believe  in 
these  things  I  know  not  what  I  do  believe. 

In  view  of  the  wonderful  work  of  redemption  and  the  une- 
qualled display  of  the  divine  glory  therein,  I  have  lately  felt 
bound  to  thank  God  for  selecting  this  distinguished  world  for 
the  place  of  my  existence ;  this  world  which  is  to  send  out  a 
report  through  the  universe,  and  to  be  the  sun  to  enlighten  all 
other  worlds.  And  O  the  obligations  I  am  under  for  having 
my  birth  in  a  land  of  Gospel  light,  and  not  in  pagan  dark- 
ness, which  would  have  ensured  my  destruction;  and  for  dis- 
tinguishing me  from  my  former  companions  who  were  left  to 
perish,  by  regenerating  grace,  if  indeed  I  have  been  born 
again.  For  this  I  am  bound  eternally  to  give  thanks.  To 
such  a  God  I  ought  to  have  devoted  my  life  continually. 
And  O  to  think  of  the  sins  which  I  have  committed  since, 
crushes  me  in  the  dust. 

I  have  lately  been  delighted  with  the  thought  that  the  day 
is  coming  when  there  shall  "  be  upon  the  bells  of  the  horses, 
Holiness  unto  the  Lord,  and  every  pot  in  Jerusalem  and  in 
Judah  shall  be  holiness  unto  the  Lord  of  Hosts;"  when  the 
most  common  utensils  for  dressing  food,  and  every  article,  shall 
be  consecrated  to  God.  I  have  desired  thus  to  consecrate  all 
that  I  possess,  and  do  rejoice  that  God  is  to  be  thus  glorified 
through  the  earth.  I  can  think  of  nothing  more  delightful 
than  that.  Among  the  grounds  of  gratitude  to  God  I  have 
lately,  and  with  strong  feelings,  placed  the  circumstance  of 
living  in  such  a  day  as  this,  so  near  the  millenium,  and  when 


WILLIAMSTOWW.  199 

the  Protestant  church  is  waking  up  to  strong  and  increasing 
efforts  for  the  salvation  of  the  world  and  the  glory  of  God, 
If  I  am  not  delighted  with  the  plan  of  salvation, — if  I  am  not 
grateful  to  God  for  his  wonderful  and  constant  mercies, — if  I 
do  not  love  the  character  of  God,  and  believe  in  the  gospel  of 
Christ, — if  I  do  not  repent  of  sin, — if  I  do  not  feel  my  depend- 
ance  on  God  for  all  things,  and  trust  in  him  who  feeds  the  ra- 
vens and  clothes  the  lilies,  and  feel  resigned  to  his  providence, 
whatever  he  sends, — if  the  truths  of  his  word  are  not  made  to 
me  glorious  realities, — then  I  am  indeed  greatly  mistaken  as 
to  the  most  sensible  exercises  of  my  own  heart. 

May  \st,  Sabbath.  A  few  days  ago,  and  for  more  than  one 
day,  I  felt  it  uncommonly  sweet  to  trust  in  God  for  every  sup- 
ply and  for  every  want  in  life, — a  feeling  which,  in  a  less  sen- 
sible degree,  has  been  habitual  through  the  winter  and  spring. 
There  appeared  One  above  whom  it  was  delightful  to  trust, 
whom  I  loved  to  think  upon  as  having  the  management,  and 
who  held  himself  bound  to  provide  for  all  who  trusted  in  him. 
I  could  say  from  sweet  experience,  "  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in 
perfect  peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  thee,  because  he  trust- 
eth  in  thee." 

Some  time  ago  it  became  a  delightful  thought  that  the  time 
was  coming  when  Holiness  to  the  Lord  would  be  written  on 
the  whole  furniture  of  this  globe,  and  that  the  earth  would 
thus  be  filled  with  the  glory  of  the  Lord.  It  was  so  delight- 
ful that  I  have  incorporated  the  thought  with  my  daily  prayers. 
I  think  I  can  truly  say  that  there  is  no  thought  so  sweet  as 
that  God  will  be  glorified,  and  glorified  in  the  great  work  of 
redemption. 

This  day  was  the  sacrament.  In  praying  beforehand  that 
I  might  give  myself  away  to  Christ  at  the  table,  ray  heart 
bounded  at  the  thought.  I  had  longed  to  be  united  to  the  Sa- 
viour and  to  have  him  for  my  Saviour,  and  now  I  had  per- 
mission to  give  myself  away  to  him  and  effect  the  union. 
This  was  the  shape  of  the  thought  which  appeared  real  and 
delightful,  and  opened  to  me  as  something  new.  I  longed  to 
honor  that  Saviour,  to  have  him  for  my  own,  and  to  enjoy  him. 


200  RESIDENCE    AT 

May  Sth,  Sabbath.  For  some  days  past,  being  unwell,  my 
mind  has  been  so  depressed  in  view  of  past  sins,  as  to  create  a 
doubt  respecting  my  religious  state.  The  same  causes  wea- 
kened my  faith  and  love.  But  this  morning,  in  reading  that 
blessed  passage,  Luke,  xi.  1-13,  my  faith  and  love  revived, 
and  I  could  contemplate  God  with  confidence  and  delight.  I 
believe  that  he  will  hear  prayer.  I  delight  to  put  my  trust  in 
him  for  all  things,  and  am  rejoiced  that  his  glorious  perfec- 
tions will  be  revealed  to  an  astonished  universe  through  the 
amazing  work  of  redemption. 

June  13th.  Yesterday,  (the  sabbath,)  in  reading  the  life  of 
Brainerd,  I  fell  upon  this  sentence  :  "  In  the  evening  had  the 
most  agreeable  conversation  which  I  remember  in  all  my  life, 
upon  God's  being  all  in  all,  and  all  enjoyments  being  just 
that  to  us  which  God  makes  them,  and  no  more."  My  heart 
instantly  went  into  the  subject,  and  felt  it  desirable  and  plea- 
sant that  the  will  of  God  should  in  all  things  be  done.  1  had 
been  tried  about  provisions  for  this  life,  and  was  then  under 
trial.  I  then  saw  that  the  will  of  God  ivould  in  all  things  be 
done.  I  chose  that  it  should  be  so.  I  had  confidence  in  him, 
and  trusted  in  him  for  future  support,  and  was  resigned  to  his 
will.  I  have  felt  so,  most  of  the  time,  while  awake,  ever 
since ;  and  though  an  event  which  I  had  feared  has  come  to 
pass,  I  feel  quiet,  undisturbed,  and  commit  all  my  future  course 
to  God,  and  rejoice  that  "  the  Lord  God  Omnipotent  reign- 
«th." 

June  26th.  Sabbath.  For  the  last  three  days  especially,  I 
have  been  delighted  to  have  the  will  of  Christ  done  in  the  go- 
vernment of  the  world,  and  have  felt  resigned  to  his  will,  and 
wished  it  done  rather  than  my  own,  and  have  found  it  easy 
to  trust  in  him,  confident  that  his  will  must  be  the  rightest, 
the  wisest,  the  most  for  the  public  good,  and  most  to  be  re- 
joiced in.  This  has  swallowed  up  all  anxiety  about  my  fu- 
ture interest  on  earth,  and  produced  a  feeling  of  real  gratitude 
and  delight. 

July  13th.  Trust  in  God  for  future  support  is  encouraged 
and  enjoined  in  L  Tim.  vi.  17.     "  Charge  them  that  are  rich 


VVILLIAMSTOWN.  201 

in  this  world,  that  they  be  not  high-niinded,  nor  trust  in  un- 
certain riches,  but  in  the  Uving  God,  who  giveth  us  riclily  all 
things  to  enjoy."  This  trust  I  continue  habitually  to  feel.  I 
am  daily  delighted  to  think  that  infinite  wisdom  and  love  con- 
trol all  events,  and  my  eyes  have  repeatedly  moistened  at  the 
thought  that  Christ  is  on  the  throne  and  governs  all  things. 
It  is  delightful  to  think  that  he  loves  his  disciples  as  the  Fa- 
ther loveth  him  ;  John  xv.  9  ;  that  he  loves  his  church  as  his 
own  flesh  ;  Eph.  v.  22-32. 

July  "^Xst.  Sahhatli.  I  had  supposed,  from  my  loss  by  the 
fire,  that  it  was  the  purpose  of  God  to  give  me  health  to  re- 
main here  a  few  years  longer.  But  I  find  a  general  discou- 
ragement about  my  health  among  the  trustees  and  scholars, 
mingled  with  great  respect  and  kindness.  And  on  the  occa- 
sion of  the  late  visit  of  the  standing  committee  of  the  trustees, 
I  became  as  fully  convinced  as  I  could  have  been  by  a  voice 
from  heaven,  that  it  will  be  my  duty  to  resign  at  commence- 
ment. I  have  earnestly  prayed  for  direction,  and  feel  thank- 
ful to  God  for  making  my  duty  so  plain.  I  tendered  my  re- 
signation the  last  commencement,  but  the  trustees  did  not  see 
fit  to  accept  it.  They  will  accept  it  now.  How  I  am  to  be 
provided  for  I  do  not  know,  but  I  trust  in  God,  and  I  feel  it 
my  duty  and  my  privilege  to  be  entirely  resigned  to  his  will. 
Infinite  benevolence  and  wisdom  will  do  that  which  will  be 
most  desirable  for  the  holy  universe. 

I  expected  my  absent  children  and  grand-children  here  on 
Friday.  They  have  not  come,  and  sickness  has  likely  detain- 
ed them  at  Newark.  This  whole  business  I  leave  with  God 
and  rejoice  that  every  circumstance  respecting  them  is  under 
his  control. 

That  trust  in  God  which  I  have  expressed  in  former  arti- 
cles continues  ;  and  I  have  for  some  time  wished  to  present,  in 
one  view,  those  texts  which  have  encouraged  my  trust,  and 
others  which  I  find  in  the  scriptures.     I  will  now  do  it. 

Texts  which  plainly  require,  and  fully  authorize  an  unli- 
mited trust  in  God,  for  the  good  things  of  this  life.  Luke  xii. 
22-31,   (as  Mat.  vi.   25-34.)    "  Therefore  I  say  unto  you. 

Vol.  I.  26 


202  RESIDENCE    AT 

take  no  thought  for  your  life,  what  ye  shall  eat,  neither  for 
the  body,  what  ye  shall  put  on.  The  hfe  is  more  than  meat, 
and  the  body  is  more  than  raiment.  Consider  the  ravens  ; 
for  they  neither  sow  nor  reap ;  which  neither  have  store-houses 
nor  barn ;  and  God  feedeth  them.  How  much  more  are  ye 
better  than  the  fowls?  And  which  of  you,  with  taking 
thought,  can  add  to  his  stature  one  cubit?  If  ye  then  be  not 
able  to  do  that  thing  which  is  least,  why  take  ye  thought  for 
the  rest?  Consider  the  liUes  how  they  grow;  they  toil  not ; 
they  spin  not ;  and  yet  I  say  unto  you,  that  Solomon  in  all 
his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these.  If  then  God  so 
clothe  the  grass,  which  is  to-day  in  the  field,  and  to-morrow 
is  cast  into  the  oven  ;  how  much  more  will  he  clothe  you,  O 
ye  of  little  faith  ?  And  seek  not  ye  what  ye  shall  eat,  or  what 
ye  shall  drink,  neither  be  ye  of  doubtful  mind.  For  all  these 
things  do  the  nations  of  the  world  seek  after ;  and  your  Fa- 
ther knoweth  that  ye  have  need  of  these  things.  But  rather 
seek  ye  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  all  these  things  shall  be  ad- 
ded unto  you."— Ps.  xxxvii.  3-5,  7,  11,  18,  19,  22,  25,  29, 
34,  40.  "  Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  good  ;  so  shalt  thou  dwell 
in  the  land  and  verily  thou  shalt  be  fed.  Delight  thyself  also 
in  the  Lord,  and  he  shall  give  thee  the  desires  of  thy  heart. 
Commit  thy  way  unto  the  Lord  ;  trust  also  in  him,  and  he 
shall  bring  it  to  pass.  Rest  in  the  Lord,  and  wait  patiently 
for  him.  The  meek  shall  inherit  the  earth,  and  shall  delight 
themselves  in  the  abundance  of  peace.  The  Lord  knoweth 
the  days  of  the  upright,  and  their  inheritance  shall  be  forever. 
They  shall  not  be  ashamed  in  the  evil  times,  and  in  the  days 
of  famine,  they  shall  be  satisfied.  For  such  as  be  blessed  of 
him  shall  inherit  the  earth.  I  have  been  young  and  now  am 
old  ;  yet  have  I  not  seen  the  righteous  forsaken,  nor  his  seed 
begging  bread.  The  righteous  shall  inherit  the  land  and 
dwell  therein  forever.  Wait  on  the  Lord  and  keep  his  way, 
and  he  shall  exalt  thee  to  inherit  the  land.  And  the  Lord 
shall  help  them  and  deliver  them  ;  he  shall  dehver  them  from 
the  wicked  and  save  them,  because  they  trust  in  him." — Ps. 
i.  1,3.  "  Blessed  is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  203 

of  the  ungodly.  And  he  shall  be  like  a  tree  planted  by  the 
rivers  of  water,  that  bringeth  forth  his  fruit  in  his  season  ;  his 
leaf  also  shall  not  wither,  and  whatsoever  he  doth  shall  pros- 
per."—Ps.  V.  11.  "Let  all  those  that  put  their  trust  in  thee  re- 
joice ;  let  them  ever  shout  for  joy  because  thou  defendest 
them." — Ps.  xviii.  30.  "  The  word  of  the  Lord  is  tried  ;  he  is 
a  buckler  to  all  those  that  trust  in  him." — Ps.  xxvii.  10. 
"  When  my  father  and  my  mother  forsake  me,  then  the  Lord 
will  take  me  up." — Ps.  xxxi.  19,  20.  "  O  how  great  is  thy 
goodness  which  thou  hast  laid  up  for  them  that  fear  thee ; 
which  thou  hast  wrought  for  them  that  trust  in  thee  before  the 
sons  of  men.  Thou  shall  hide  them  in  the  secret  of  thy  pre- 
sence from  the  pride  of  man  ;  thou  shalt  keep  them  secretly  in 
a  pavilion  from  the  strife  of  tongues." — Ps.  xxiii.  1,  2,  5,  6. 
"  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd,  I  shall  not  want.  He  maketh 
me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures  ;  he  leadeth  me  beside  the 
still  waters.  Thou  preparest  a  table  before  me  in  the  presence 
of  my  enemies ;  thou  anointest  my  head  with  oil ;  my  cup 
runneth  over.  Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me  all 
the  days  of  my  life,  and  I  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord 
forever." — Ps.  xxxiv.  9,  10,  22.  "O  fear  the  Lord  ye  his 
saints ;  for  there  is  no  want  to  them  that  fear  him.  The 
young  hons  do  lack  and  suffer  hunger ;  but  they  that  seek 
the  Lord  shall  not  want  any  good  thing.  The  Lord  redeem- 
eth  the  soul  of  his  servants,  and  none  of  them  that  trust  in 
him  shall  be  desolate." — Ps.  xl.  4.  "  Blessed  is  that  man  that 
maketh  the  Lord  his  trust." — Ps.  Iv.  22.  "  Cast  thy  burden 
upon  the  Lord,  and  he  shall  sustain  thee ;  he  shall  never  suf- 
fer the  righteous  to  be  moved."— Ps.  Ixxxiv.  U,  12.  "The 
Lord  God  is  a  sun  and  shield  ;  the  Lord  will  give  grace  and 
glory  ;  no  good  thing  will  he  withhold  from  them  that  walk 
uprightly.  O  Lord  of  hosts,  blessed  is  the  man  that  trusteth 
in  thee." — Ps.  cxxviii.  1,  2.  "  Blessed  is  every  one  that  feareth 
the  Lord,  that  walketh  in  his  ways.  For  thou  shalt  eat  the 
labor  of  thine  hands.  Happy  shalt  thou  be,  and  it  shall  be 
well  with  thee."— Prov.  x.  3.  "  The  Lord  will  not  suffer  the 
soul  of  the  righteous  to  famish,  but  he  casteth  away  the  sub- 


204  RESIDENCE    AT 

stance  of  tlib  wicked." — Piov.  xiii.  25.  "  The  righteous  eateth 
to  the  satisfying  of  his  soul,  but  the  belly  of  the  wicked  shall 
want." — Prov.  xvi.  3,  20.  "  Commit  thy  works  unto  the  Lord, 
and  thy  thoughts  shall  be  established.  He  that  handleth  a 
matter  wisely  shall  find  good  ;  and  whoso  trusteth  in  the  Lord, 
happy  is  he." — Prov.  xxii.  4.  "  By  humility  and  the  fear  of 
the  Lord,  are  riches  and  honor  and  life."^ — Prov.  xxviii.  10, 
25.  "The  upright  shall  have  good  things  in  possession.  He 
that  putteth  his  trust  in  the  Lord  shall  be  made  fat." — Prov. 
xxix.  25.  "  Whoso  putteth  his  trust  in  the  Lord  shall  be 
safe." — Prov.  xxx.  5.  "  He  is  a  shield  unto  them  that  put  their 
trust  in  him." — Isaiah  xxx.  18.  "  Therefore  will  the  Lord  wait 
that  he  may  be  gracious  unto  you,  and  therefore  will  he  be 
exalted  that  he  may  have  mercy  upon  you  ;  for  the  Lord  is  a 
God  of  judgment ;  blessed  are  all  they  that  wait  for  him." — 
Isaiah  Ivii.  13.  "He  that  putteth  his  trust  in  me  shall  possess 
the  land,  and  shall  inherit  my  holy  mountain." — Jer.  xvii.  7, 
8.  "  Blessed  is  the  man  that  trusteth  in  the  liord,  and  whose 
hope  the  Lord  is.  For  he  shall  be  as  a  tree,  planted  by  the 
waters,  and  that  spread eth  out  her  roots  by  the  river,  and  shall 
not  see  when  heat  cometh,  but  her  leaf  shall  be  green,  and 
shall  not  be  careful  in  the  year  of  drought,  neither  shall  cease 
from  yielding  fruit." — Mar.  x.  29,  30.  "  There  is  no  man  that 
hath  left  house,  or  brethren,  or  sister,  or  father,  or  mother,  or 
wife,  or  children,  or  lands,  for  my  sake  and  the  Gospel's,  but 
he  shall  receive  a  Imndred  fold  now  in  this  time,  houses  and 
brethren  and  sisters,  and  mothers  and  children,  and  lands 
with  persecutions,  and  in  the  world  to  come  eternal  life." — 
Phil.  iv.  6,  7.  "  Be  careful  for  nothing  ;  but  in  every  thing  by 
prayer  and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving,  let  your  requests 
be  made  known  unto  God.  And  the  peace  of  God  which 
passeth  all  understanding  shall  keep  your  hearts  and  minds 
through  Christ  Jesus."— I.  Tim.  iv.  8.  "  Godliness  is  profita- 
ble unto  all  things,  having  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,  and 
of  that  which  is  to  come." — I.  Tim.  vi.  17.  "Charge  them 
that  are  rich  in  this  world,  that  they  be  not  high-minded,  nor 
trust  in  uncertain  riches,  but  in  the  living  God  who  giveth  us 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  205 

lichly  all  things  to  enjoy." — Heb.  xiii.  5,  6.  "  Let  your  conver- 
sation be  without  covetousness.  and  be  content  with  such 
things  as  ye  have  ;  for  he  hath  said,  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor 
forsake  thee.  So  that  we  may  boldly  say,  The  Lord  is  my 
helper,  I  will  not  fear  what  man  shall  do  unto  me." — 1.  Pet. 
V.  7.  "  Casting  all  your  care  upon  him  for  he  caretli  for  you." 
There  are  other  texts  which  speak  more  generally  of  the 
effects  of  trusting  in  God.  1  Chron.  v.  20.  "And  they  were 
helped  against  them,  and  the  Hagarites  were  delivered  into 
their  hand,  and  all  that  were  with  them  :  for  they  cried  to  God 
in  the  battle,  and  he  was  entreated  of  them,  because  they  put 
their  trust  in  him." — 2  Chron.  xiv.  11,  12.  "And  Asa  cried 
unto  the  Lord  his  God,  and  said.  Lord,  it  is  nothing  with  thee 
to  help,  whether  with  many,  or  with  them  that  have  no  power. 
Help  us,  O  Lord  our  God ;  for  we  rest  on  thee,  and  in  thy 
name  we  go  against  this  multitude.  O  Lord,  thou  art  our 
God,  let  not  man  prevail  against  thee.  So  the  Lord  smote  the 
Ethiopians  before  Asa." — Ps.  xvii.  7.  "  Shew  thy  marvellous 
loving  kindness,  O  thou  that  savest  by  thy  right  hand  them 
which  put  their  trust  in  thee,  from  those  that  rise  up  against 
them." — Ps.  xxi.  7.  "The  king  trusteth  in  the  Lord,  and 
through  the  mercy  of  the  Most  High  he  shall  not  be  moved." — 
Ps.  xxii.  4,  5.  "  Our  fathers  trusted  in  thee :  they  trusted  and 
thou  didst  deliver  them.  They  cried  unto  thee  and  were  de- 
livered :  they  trusted  in  thee  and  were  not  confounded." — 
Ps.  xxvi.  1.  "I  have  trusted  in  the  Lord;  therefore  I  shall  not 
slide." — Ps.  xxviii.  7.  "  The  Lord  is  my  strength  and  my 
shield ;  my  heart  trusted  in  him  and  I  am  helped." — Ps.  xxxii. 
10.  "  He  that  trusteth  in  the  Lord,  mercy  shall  compass  him 
about." — Ps.  Ivi.  4.  "In  God  I  have  put  my  trust;  I  will  not 
fear  what  flesh  can  do  unto  me." — Ps.  xci.  2-16.  "  I  will  say 
of  the  Lord,  He  is  my  refuge  and  my  fortress ;  my  God,  in 
him  will  I  trust.  He  shall  cover  thee  with  his  feathers,  and 
under  his  wings  shalt  thou  trust ;  his  truth  shall  be  thy  shield 
and  buckler.  A  thousand  shall  fall  at  thy  side,  and  ten  thou- 
sand at  thy  right  hand,  but  it  shall  not  come  nigh  thee.  Be- 
cause thou  hast  made  the  liord  which  is  my  refuge,  even  the 


206  RESIDENCE    AT 

most  High,  thy  habitation,  there  shall  no  evil  befall  thee,  nei- 
ther shall  any  plague  come  nigh  thy  dwelling.  For  he  shall 
give  his  angels  charge  over  thee,  to  keep  thee  in  all  thy  ways. 
They  shall  bear  thee  up  in  their  hands,  lest  thou  dash  thy 
foot  against  a  stone."— Ps.  cxxv.  1.  "They  that  trust  in  the 
Lord  shall  be  as  Mount  Zion,  which  cannot  be  removed,  but 
abideth  forever." — Ps.  cxliv.  1,  2.  "  Blessed  be  the  Lord  my 
strength,  which  teacheth  my  hands  to  war  and  my  fingers  to 
fight;  my  goodness  and  my  fortress,  my  high  tower  and  my 
deliverer,  my  shield,  and  he  in  whom  I  trust ;  who  subdueth 
my  people  under  me." — Prov.  xvi.  20.  "Whoso  trusteth  in  the 
Lord,  happy  is  he." — Isaiah,  xli.  17,  18.  "  When  the  poor  and 
needy  seek  water  and  there  is  none,  and  their  tongue  faileth 
for  thirst,  I  the  Lord  will  hear  them,  I  the  God  of  Israel  will 
not  forsake  them.  I  will  open  rivers  in  high  places,  and  foun- 
tains in  the  midst  of  the  valleys ;  I  will  make  the  wilderness 
a  pool  of  water,  and  the  dry  land  springs  of  water." — Isaiah, 
Ixiv.  4.  "  For  since  the  beginning  of  the  world  men  have  not 
heard  nor  perceived  by  the  eye,  neither  hath  the  eye  seen,  O 
God,  besides  thee,  what  he  hath  prepared  for  him  that  waiteth 
for  him." — Jer.  xxxix.  18.  "I  will  surely  deliver  thee  and  thou 
shalt  not  fall  by  the  sword, — because  thou  hast  put  thy  trust 
in  me,  saith  the  Lord." — Dan.  iii.  28.  "  Blessed  be  the  God  of 
Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego,  who  hath  sent  his  angel, 
and  dehvered  his  servants  that  trusted  in  him." 

In  view  of  the  whole,  we  may  break  forth  in  the  sweet  lan- 
guage of  the  evangelical  prophet,  (Isaiah,  xxvi.  3,  4,)  "  Thou 
wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  thee, 
because  he  trusteth  in  thee.  Trust  ye  in  the  Lord  forever,  for 
in  the  Lord  Jehovah  is  everlasting  strength." 

August  7th,  Sabbath.  I  received  a  letter  yesterday,  bring- 
ing with  it  a  disappointment  about  a  charitable  contribution 
for  the  college  to  purchase  my  library.  In  the  evening  my 
daughter  received  a  letter  from  her  husband.  Dr.  Smith,  who 
had  heard  of  my  intention  to  remove,  and  who  rejoiced  in  it, 
and  cordially  invited  me  to  his  house  as  my  home.  The  first 
letter  gave  me  pain,  though  accompanied  by  resignation  to  the 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  207 

will  of  God  and  trust  in  him  ;  the  latter  was  mercifully  order- 
ed for  my  support  under  the  disappointment.  I  this  morning 
feel  entirely  resigned  to  the  will  of  God,  and  can  trust  in  him 
for  future  support.  What  can  I  desire  more  than  that  infinite 
wisdom  and  benevolence  should  govern  the  world  and  order 
every  event?  I  wish  to  employ  those  means  which  duty  dic- 
tates ;  and  having  done  that,  I  will  leave  the  ordering  of  my 
life  to  God.  I  know  that  I  am  resigned  to  his  will  ia  regard 
to  all  future  circumstances  in  this  world,  and  can,  though  with 
less  distinctness,  trust  in  him  for  future  support. 

August  lAth.  Sabbath.  Expect  to  preach  to-day  for  the 
last  time  in  this  meeting-house,  a  sermon  to  the  graduating 
class.  In  my  weak  state  of  health  I  liad  been  somewhat  agi- 
tated with  the  uncertainty  and  trouble  of  selling  my  library, 
furniture,  and  other  things,  and  about  my  future  support;  but 
for  a  day  and  a  half  past  I  have  been  remarkably  composed 
under  the  influence  of  resignation  and  trust.  My  being  sent 
hither  was  doubtless  a  great  mercy,  and  I  have  every  rea- 
son therefore  to  bless  God  for  it.  And  now  it  is  plainly 
his  will  that  I  should  go.  It  is  his  will  that  I  should  be 
placed  in  just  such  circumstances ;  and  it  is  doubtless  my 
duty  to  submit  to  him  and  trust  in  him  with  entire  composure 
and  peace.  How  sweet  to  think  that  infinite  benevolence  and 
wisdom  will  shape  all  my  circumstances.  What  can  I  desire 
more?  I  was  yesterday  composed  by  reading  Luke,  x.  38-42. 
"  Martha,  Martha,  thou  art  careful  and  troubled  about  many 
things :  but  one  thing  is  needful.  And  Mary  hath  chosen 
that  good  part  which  shall  not  be  taken  away  from  her."  In- 
stead of  being  troubled  about  the  things  of  time  and  sense,  I 
long  that  ray  future  hfe  may  be  devoted  to  God  with  heaven- 
ly affections ;  and  that,  no  longer  careful  about  the  world,  I 
may  be  wholly  engaged  in  promoting  his  kingdom  and  in  pre- 
paring for  my  glorious  rest.  O  may  I  thus  spend  the  residue 
of  my  days  !  I  think  I  never  desired  this  so  much  before. 
May  my  future  years  or  months  be  wholly  taken  up  in  the 
love,  and  service,  and  praise  of  God.  May  I  be  carried  through 
the  present  scenes  with  the  sweet  composure  of  submission 


208  RESIDENCE    AT 

and  trust.  Why  should  I  be  anxious  about  the  world  ?  My 
mind  has  lately  been  considerably  impressed  with  those  words 
of  the  Apostle,  1  Tim.  vi.  6-11,  "  Godliness  with  content- 
ment is  great  gain.  For  we  brought  nothing  into  the  world, 
and  it  is  certain  we  can  carry  nothing  out.  And  having  food 
and  raiment,  let  us  be  therewith  content.  But  they  that  will 
be  rich  fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare,  and  into  many  fool- 
ish and  hurtful  lusts  which  drov,?n  men  in  destruction  and  per- 
dition. For  the  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil ;  which 
while  some  coveted  after,  they  have  erred  from  the  faith  and 
pierced  themselves  through  with  many  sorrows.  But  thou,  O 
man  of  God,  flee  these  things."  O  may  these  sentiments  be 
deeply  and  permanently  impressed  upon  my  heart.  And  then 
I  see  not  what  I  have  to  be  anxious  or  careful  about,  but  to 
promote  the  kingdom  of  Christ  and  prepare  for  heaven. 

Doctor  Griffin's  health,  which  had  been  gradu- 
ally declining  for  two  or  three  years,  at  length  be- 
came so  much  enfeebled  that  he  found  himself  quite 
inadequate  to  the  duties  of  his  office ;  and  accord- 
ingly at  the  meeting  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  in 
August,  he  again  tendered  his  resignation,  after 
having  occupied  the  Presidential  chair  fifteen  years. 
It  was  of  course  accepted,  but  with  deep  regret  on 
the  part  of  the  Board  that  the  occasion  for  it  should 
have  existed,  and  with  the  warmest  gratitude  for 
the  important  services  which  he  had  rendered  to 
the  institution. 

In  reference  to  the  arrangements  for  his  removal 
to  Newark,  he  writes  thus  in  his  diary : 

Aug.  2Sth^  Sabbath.  I  contemplated  the  sale  of  my  furniture 
and  books  and  the  trouble  of  removal  as  a  fearful  undertak- 
ing ;  and  without  submission  and  trust  should  have  sunk  un- 
der it.  But  God  has  so  remarkably  supported  and  prospered 
me  during  the  last  week,  that  I  seem  almost  to  have  been 


"WILLIAMSTOWN.  209 

brought  through  this  trial.  Thanks  to  a  merciful  and  faith- 
ful God  for  all  these  blessings!  Since  my  contemplated  re- 
moval I  have  longed  more  than  I  ever  did  before,  to  spend  the 
remainder  of  my  life  in  heavenly  devotion.  I  cannot  calcu- 
late so  much  as  I  have  done  on  public  usefulness,  (though 
this  I  desire,)  but  I  long  and  pray  for  high  communion  with 
God,  and  for  affections  toward  him  more  ardent  and  delightful 
than  I  ever  felt  before.  O  God,  give  me  this  high  state  of  ho- 
liness and  enjoyment  for  the  rest  of  my  life,  and  all  the  use- 
fulness which  thy  wisdom  can  allot  to  me,  and  my  highest 
wishes  of  a  personal  nature  are  gratified. 

Doctor  Griffin  remained  at  Williamstown  till 
about  the  close  of  September,  completing  his  ar- 
rangements for  the  removal  of  his  family  to  New- 
ark. He  subsequently  refers  in  his  journal  to  the 
event  of  their  departure  in  the  following  paragraph. 

I  left  Williamstown  with  my  family  on  Thursday  the  29th 
Sept.  The  people  there  showed  us  great  affection  and  express- 
ed much  regret  at  our  departure.  The  students  appointed  a 
committee  of  two  from  each  class  to  express  their  respect  and  at- 
tachment, and  it  was  done  in  a  manner  the  most  affectionate. 
The  Faculty  invited  me  to  a  social  dinner  at  the  Mansion 
House.  As  I  was  getting  into  the  carriage  on  Thursday 
morning,  the  students  came  up  in  procession  to  take  their  last 
leave.  I  made  an  address  to  them  from  the  carriage,  and 
some  of  them  wept. 

The  following  is  the  letter  from  the  students  re- 
ferred to  in  the  preceding  paragraph. 

Reverend  Sir, 

Prompted  by  the  feelings  which  the  near  departure  of 
one  so  respected  and  esteemed  naturally  elicits,  the  college  as- 
sembled this  morning  and  appointed  us  their  committee  to  ex- 
press to  yoQ  their  sentiments  on  this  occasion.     Those  of  them 
Vol.  1.  27 


210  RESIDENCE    AT 

who  have  been  witnesses  and  partakers  of  the  benefits  you 
have  conferred  on  the  college,  acted  from  the  deep  feeling  of 
gratitude;  those  who  have  lately  become  of  the  number  of  stu- 
dents, were  influenced  by  your  celebrity  as  a  preacher — your 
character  as  a  man. 

Knowing  this,  it  is  with  peculiar  feehngs  that  we  have  un- 
dertaken to  become  their  organ,  and  we  should  despair  of  ex- 
pressing to  you  their  opinions,  were  we  not  conscious  of  their 
active  existence  in  our  own  bosoms.  When  a  distinguished 
man  departs  from  the  scene  of  his  former  actions,  he  is  fol- 
lowed by  the  aspirations  of  those  who  have  been  benefitted  by 
his  influence.  If  to  have  given  celebrity  to  our  Alma  Mater, 
and  a  name  of  which  we  can  proudly  boast, — if  to  have  given 
us  sound  moral  and  religious  principles,  on  which  we  can 
firmly  base  our  actions,  and  to  have  exemplified  the  beauty 
and  simplicity  of  a  good  man's  career,  have  conferred  on  us 
obligations, — you  will  appreciate  the  feelings  which  agitate  our 
minds  at  the  thought  of  your  departure.  Praise  we  do  not 
offer,  for  it  would  be  futile; — useless  to  one  who  stands  so  high 
in  the  opinion  of  all ;  but  we  present  you  with  a  better  gift, — 
our  kindest  feelings  and  hopes  for  your  future  welfare. 

In  the  name  of  the  college,  we  bid  you  an  affectionate  fare- 
well. 

LEWIS  BENEDICT,  Jr. 

SAM'L  G.  JONES, 

THOS.  A.  HALE, 

LABAN  S.  SHERMAN, 

SAM'L  P.  ANDREWS,      /  Committee. 

RUFUS  G.  WELLS, 

BARNABUS  COLLINS, 

OLIVER  DIMON, 

Sept.  27,  1836. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


HIS  LAST  RESIDENCE  AT  NEWARK,  AND  HIS  DEATH. 

Doctor  Griffin  reached  Newark  with  his  fami- 
ly, for  the  last  time,  Oct.  1,  1836.  It  is  scarcely- 
necessary  to  say  that  he  was  greeted  with  a  most 
cordial  welcome  by  a  large  circle  of  friends,  and 
that  he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  community 
who  well  knew  how  to  appreciate  his  residence 
among  them,  and  many  of  whom  it  was  his  privi- 
lege to  reckon  among  the  seals  of  his  ministry. 
Under  date  of  Nov.  29,  he  writes  thus  in  his  diary. 

Since  I  have  been  here  the  affection  and  respect  of  former 
friends  have  been  overwhelming.  Several  have  united  in 
making  me  a  handsome  present.  The  trustees  of  the  first 
church  have  offered  me  a  pew  for  my  family.  God  has  or- 
dered all  things  in  mercy.  I  have  been  sick  for  near  two 
months, — very  sick, — but  I  now  am  somewhat  better.  I  long 
to  do  something  for  God  and  his  church  before  I  die.  May 
I  live  devoted  to  him,  and  walk  in  the  light  of  his  counte- 
nance, and  hold  myself  ready  to  depart  at  a  moment's  warning. 


212  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

TO  HIS  NIECE,  MISS  JULIA  ANN  LORD,  OF  LYME. 

Neivark,  Jan.  19,  1837. 
My  Dear  Julia  Ann, 

I  received  your  very  kind  and  gratifying  letter  of  Dec. 
16th,  and  thank  you  for  all  the  delicate  respect  which  it  evin- 
ces. My  health  has  been  so  feeble  that  I  have  not  felt  able  to 
write  to  you  before,  and  now  must  be  somewhat  brief.  On 
the  15th  of  December  while  walking  on  the  floor,  I  suddenly- 
fell  on  the  carpet  like  a  corpse,  and  fainted  clear  away.  I 
have  repeatedly  had  some  of  the  same  symptons  since,  but 
have  not  fainted.  For  the  last  fortnight  I  have  been  better. 
The  attention  which  I  receive  from  my  old  parishioners  and 
spiritual  children  is  most  affecting,  and  exceeds  any  thing 
I  ever  received  from  a  public  body  in  my  life.  My  frienda 
hope  that  God  has  sent  me  here  to  promote  revivals  of  religion 
in  Newark.  O  that  it  may  be  so !  And,  my  dear  cousin, 
how  infinitely  important  that  revivals  of  religion  should  pre- 
vail in  Lyme.  What  will  become  of  some  of  your  dear  sis- 
ters if  this  is  not  the  case?  After  one  has  reached  the  age  of 
thirty,  unconverted,  the  chances  against  him  are  perhaps  forty 
to  one,  and  when  he  lias  reached  the  age  of  fifty,  they  are 
probably  fifty  or  sixty  to  one.  And  are  there  any  in  your  fa- 
mily who  stand  these  many  chances  to  one  for  eternal  burn- 
ings ?  Surely  no  more  time  ought  to  be  lost — not  a  single  day 
or  hour.  Every  hour  that  is  lost  increases  the  danger,  and 
every  hour  that  is  spent  in  enmity  against  God  involves  guilt 
that  deserves  eternal  damnation.  And  then  what  a  call  there 
is  for  our  agonizing  prayers !  A  few  christians  with  such 
prayers,  may  bring  down  the  Holy  Spirit.  Do  read  and  pon- 
der closely  upon  Luke  xi.  1-13, — particularly  the  13th  verse. 
O  let  your  faith  take  hold  of  that  assurance  and  it  may  bring 
down  the  blessing.  I  remember  you  all  in  prayer  several 
times  a  day. 

On  sabbath  evenings.  Dr.  Smith's  family  sing  psalms,  while 
he  plays  on  a  bass  viol.  It  is  the  best  means  that  I  attend 
during  the  week.     Last  sabbath  evening  he  sung  a  verse 


NEWARK,    AND   HIS    DEATH.  213 

which  dissolved  me  to  tears,  and  affected  me  more  than  any 
verse  ever  did,  1  believe.     It  was  the  following : 

These  eyes  which  once  refused  the  light, 
Now  lift  to  God  their  watery  sight, 

And  weep  a  silent  flood : 
These  hands  are  raised  in  ceaseless  prayer; 
0  wash  away  the  stains  they  wear, 

In  pure  redeeming  blood. 

I  am  sorry  to  break  off  so  soon,  but  my  strength  seems  to 
require  it.     With  very  tender  regard,  I  am 

Your  affectionate  uncle, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN, 

Jan.  25th,  1837. 

"  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  Jiide  myself  in  thee." 

If  Christ  i.5  the  Rock  of  Ages,  he  is  our  firm  foundation^ 
our  sure  defence,  and  the  same  from  generation  to  generation. 
What  is  a  better  foundation  than  a  rock?  What  is  a  better 
bulwark  than  a  rock  cast  around  us  ?  And  a  rock  of  ages  is 
the  same  from  age  to  age.  I  have  been  so  affected  by  that 
figure  that  I  have  examined  to  see  whether  I  could  find  it  in  the 
Bible.  I  cannot  find  it  in  our  translation ;  but  in  Isaiah,  xxvi.  4. 
I  find  it  in  the  Hebrew :  "  Trust  ye  in  the  Lord  forever,  for  in  the 
Lord  Jehovah  is  the  Rock  of  Ages."  The  atonement  of  Christ 
is  the  soHd  foundation  of  our  pardon,  our  sure  defence  against  the 
wrath  of  God,  and  is  always  exerted  in  his  intercession  as  a 
priest.  The  righteousness  of  his  obedience  is  the  foundation  of 
all  our  positive  happiness  in  both  workls,  is  the  sure  protection  of 
all  our  interests,  and  this  undeniable  claim  to  a  reward  is  un- 
changeably urged  in  his  intercession.  Thus  he  immutably 
exerts  his  influence  as  an  atoning,  obedient,  and  interceding 
High  Priest,  to  obtain  those  reUefs  and  blessings  from  pure 
Godhead,  which,  in  the  name  of  God,  he  administers  as  me- 
diatorial King.  And  as  King,  he  is  the  Rock  of  Ages,  The 
incarnate  God  who  fills  the  throne  of  the  universe,  and  dis- 
penses all  the  pardons  and  blessings  obtained  from  pure  God- 


214  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

head  by  the  pleading  of  his  atonement  and  obedience,  is  the 
unchanging  fonndation  of  all  our  reliefs,  and  hopes,  aud  com- 
forts ;  and  the  defence  which,  amidst  all  our  changes  and  im- 
perfections, gives  us  everlasting  protection  and  safety.  Thus 
as  both  Priest  and  King  he  is  the  Rock  of  Ages. 

March  3rd.  Latterly  I  have  been  specially  praying  for  faith 
in  Christ.  I  could  see  his  love  to  us  all  as  manifested  on  Cal- 
vary ;  I  could  see  his  mercy  to  me  in  the  innumerable  bless- 
ings around  me;  but  when  I  contemplated  him  in  his  relation 
to  me  personally,  I  could  not  view  him  in  any  other  light 
than  as  a  sin-hating  Saviour,— the  sins  of  my  life  appeared  so 
enormous.  But  some  Psalms  and  Hymns  sung  in  the  family 
which  by  the  blessed  and  pecuhar  influence  of  Psalms  and 
Hymns  sung,  that  carry  up  the  mind  to  Christ  and  fix  it  upon 
him  immediately,  rather  than  upon  God,  and  that  raise  us  to 
him  as  direct  and  unbounded  love,  Imve  been  mercifully  ap- 
pointed to  overcome  this  difficulty.  The  words  and  the  tune 
have  rung  through  my  mind  in  the  waking  hours  of  night, 
and  led  me  directly  to  the  tender  love  of  Christ.  I  saw  that 
I  had  too  much  confined  my  thoughts  to  God,  and  that  I 
ought  to  go  directly  to  a  Saviour's  arms,  and  that  I  ought  to 
believe  that,  as  abominable  as  my  sins  have  been,  if  they 
have  once  been  pardoned,  they  form  no  partition  between  me 
and  the  heart  of  Christ.  He  loves  me  as  tenderly  as  though  I 
had  never  sinned,  and  in  proportion  to  my  faith  is  as  ready  to 
hear  my  prayers.  How  was  it  at  the  time  of  the  crucifixion  ? 
After  the  disciples  had  forsaken  him  and  fled,  and  after  Peter 
had  denied  him  with  oaths  and  curses,  when  he  came  out  of 
the  sepulchre  he  said  to  Mary,  "  Go  and  tell  my  brethren." 
By  his  death  the  sins  of  believers  are  totally  cancelled,  and  are 
never  imputed  to  them  any  more  ;  and  although,  while  under 
the  means  of  grace  they  are  chastened  for  remaining  sin,  as  a 
means  of  their  sanctification,  they  are  no  more  condemned  for 
their  past  sins  than  Peter  and  John  are  now  condemned  for 
theirs.  He  loves  them  as  well  as  he  will  love  them  in  hea- 
ven,— I  say  not  their  characters,  but  their  persons.  When 
he  turned  and  looked  upon  Peter,  he  loved  liis  person  none 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    DEATH.  215 

the  less  for  his  oaths  and  curses.  We  ought  to  feel,  if  we  have 
evidence  of  our  faith  and  pardon,  that  he  loves  our  persons 
none  the  less  for  our  past  sins.  Of  two  things  one  :  either  he 
loves  us  thus  or  we  are  under  condemnation  to  hell.  Which 
is  it  ?  If  we  do  not  abandon  our  hope,  we  ought  to  believe 
unhesitatingly  in  his  direct,  most  tender,  and  unbounded  love 
to  our  persons, — that  he  stands  ready  to  hear  our  prayers,  and 
with  open  arms  to  receive  us  to  his  bosom.  This  is  faith  in 
Christ.  This  will  bring  a  sense  of  his  infinite  love  in  the 
work  of  redemption,  of  his  infinite  mercy  in  the  management 
of  our  lives,  and  will  fill  us  with  hope  and  peace,  and  grati- 
tude and  joy. 

Since  I  have  been  in  Newark,  I  have  been  distressed  at  the 
low  state  of  religion  in  the  city,  and  have  prayed  much  for  a 
revival  here  and  through  the  country.  I  have  visited  many 
famiHes,  and  talked  with  the  unregenerate  as  faithfully  as  I 
could.  Others  have  been  at  prayer  also.  And,  blessed  be 
God,  the  Holy  Spirit  has  begun  to  descend,  not  only  here  but 
in  the  country  around,  and  in  the  neighboring  city.  Forever 
blessed  be  his  name  for  this  return  to  our  American  church 
after  several  years  of  absence.  Oh  may  he  greatly  enlarge 
the  power  and  make  it  to  endure  until  the  millenium. 

March  Sth.  The  obedience  and  death  of  Christ  answer  the 
purpose  of  our  sinless  obedience  or  righteousness.  "  Christ  is 
the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one  that  believ- 
eth."  Rom.  x.  4.  "  For  he  hath  made  him  to  be  sin  for  us 
who  knew  no  sin,  that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness 
of  God  in  him."  II.  Cor.  v.  21.  "Therein  is  the  righteous- 
ness of  God  revealed  from  faith  to  faith  ;  as  it  is  written.  The 
just  shall  live  by  faith."  Romans  i.  17.  "  The  righteousness 
of  God  without  the  law  is  manifested, — even  the  righteousness 
of  God  which  is  by  faith  of  Jesus  Christ."  Rom.  iii.  21,  22. 
"  If  by  one  man's  offence  death  reigned  by  one,  much  more 
they  which  receive  abundance  of  grace,  and  of  the  gift  of 
righteousness,  shall  reign  in  life  by  one,  Jesus  Christ.  There- 
fore as  by  the  offence  of  one  judgment  came  upon  all  men  to 
condemnation,  even  so  by  the  righteousness  of  one  the  free 


216  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

gift  came  upon  all  men  unto  justification  of  life."  Rom.  v.  17, 
18.  "  For  what  the  law  could  not  do  in  that  it  was  weak 
through  the  flesh,  God  sending  his  own  Son  in  the  likeness 
of  sinful  flesh  and  for  sin,  condemned  sin  in  the  flesh  ;  that 
the  righteousness  of  the  law  might  be  fulfilled  in  us  who  walk 
not  after  the  flesh,  but  after  the  spirit."  Rom.  viii.  3,  4.  "  Of 
him  are  ye  in  Christ  Jesus,  who  of  God  is  made  unto  us  wis- 
dom and  righteousness,  and  sanctification  and  redemption." 
L  Cor.  i.  30. 

There  must  still  be  a  qualification  in  us,  uniting  us  to  Christ; 
but  that  qualification  is  no  more  works,  but  faith.  "  To  him 
that  worketh  not,  but  believeth  on  him  that  justifieth  the  un- 
godly, his~^  faith  is  counted  for  righteousness."  Rom.  iv.  5. 
"  Even  as  Abraham  believed  God,  and  it  was  accounted  to 
him  for  righteousness."  Gal.  iii.  6. 

Although  the  offering  of  Christ  cannot  be  applied  to  us  be- 
fore we  sin,  nor  faster  than  we  sin,  (future  sins  being  not  par- 
doned.) yet  his  one  offering  completely  fills  the  space  of  our 
sinless  obedience  or  righteousness,  so  that  our  pardoned  sins, 
(all  the  past  sins  of  believers,)  are  fully  set  aside  as  the  ground 
of  condemnation,  though  not  as  occasions  of  chastisement  for 
our  good.  As  grounds  of  condemnation  they  are  as  though 
they  never  had  been.  We  ought  to  hate  them  and  abhor  our- 
selves on  their  account,  but  they  form  no  bar  to  the  love  of 
Christ  or  of  God  towards  us,  though  they  may  be  a  bar  to  the 
present  manifestations  of  his  love.  "God  commendeth  his 
love  towards  us,  in  that  while  we  were  yet  sinners  Christ  died 
for  us.  Much  more  then  being  now  justified  by  his  blood,  we 
shall  be  saved  from  wrath  through  him.  For  if  when  we 
were  enemies,  we  were  reconciled  to  God  by  the  death  of  his 
Son,  much  more,  being  reconciled,  we  shall  be  saved  by  his 
life."  Rom.  V.  8-10. 

This  was  the  marked  difference  between  the  typical  sacrifi- 
ces, and  the  offering  of  Calvary.  "  For  the  law  having  a  sha- 
dow of  good  things  to  come,  and  not  the  very  image  of  the 
things,  can  never,  with  those  sacrifices  which  they  offered  year 
by  year  continually,  make  the  comers  thereunto  perfect.     For 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    DEATH.  2X7 

then  would  they  not  have  ceased  to  be  offered  ?  Because  that 
the  worshippers,  once  purged,  should  have  had  no  more  con- 
science of  sins.  But  in  those  sacrifices  there  is  a  remembrance 
again  made  of  sins  every  year.  For  it  is  not  possible  that  the 
blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats  should  take  away  sins.  Then, 
said  I,  Lo  I  come,  to  do  thy  will. — By  the  which  will  we  are 
sanctified  through  the  offering  of  the  body  of  Jesus  Christ 
once  for  all.  For  by  one  offering  he  hath  perfected  forever 
them  that  are  sanctified."  Heb.  x.  1-4,  7,  10,  14. 

Aj)ril  16th.  Sahhath.  I  was  led,  by  reading  a  chapter  in 
Baxter's  Saint's  Rest,  to  take  up  my  printed  form  of  self-exa- 
mination, which  I  had  not  examined  of  late.  And  I  was  de- 
hghted,  and  rather  astonished,  to  find  that  my  heart  readily 
responded  to  every  question  in  the  whole  form.  1  see  npt 
therefore  why  I  may  not  indulge  the  full  assurance  of  hope. 
Forever  blessed  be  the  Lord  for  this  infinite  benefit ;  and  G 
may  I  devote  my  whole  soul,  for  the  rest  of  my  hfe,  to  his  ho- 
nor and  praise. 

July  8th.  I  have  read  the  form  of  self-examination  every 
day  since  the  16th  of  April,  and  can  say  "  Yes,"  to  almost  or 
quite  every  question,  and  have  enjoyed  something  like  the  full 
assurance  of  hope.  I  am  determined  to  read  it  every  day  for 
the  rest  of  my  life,  unless  prevented  by  sickness. 

Last  night  after  retiring  to  rest  I  was  asking  for  some  bless- 
ing as  the  reward  of  Christ's  obedience  and  in  answer  to  his 
intercession.  It  opened  to  me  in  a  clearer  light  than  ever  be- 
fore, that  Christ  was  pleading  for  our  happiness  and  consider- 
ed himself  rewarded  by  what  made  us  happy.  This  gave 
me  a  new  and  affecting  view  of  his  real  and  most  tender  love 
to  us.  He  considers  our  happiness  as  his  reward,  and  seeks 
for  no  higher  reward  than  to  see  us  blest.  O  the  reality  and 
infinite  tenderness  of  the  love  of  Christ !  He  not  only  desires 
our  happiness,  but  considers  it,  and  the  glory  of  God  involved 
in  it,  as  the  richest  and  only  reward  of  his  obedience  "unto 
death."  O  may  the  love  of  Christ  be  more  real  and  affecting 
to  my  soul  than  it  ever  was  before  !  Let  me  by  no  means  con- 
fine my  views  to  his  atonement,  by  which  my  sins  were  to  be 

Vol.  I.  28 


218  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

forgiven,  but  dwell  upon  his  obedience,  which  procured  all  my 
positive  blessings,  and  upon  the  Ijoundless  love  which  regard- 
ed them  as  his  reward,  and  which  constantly  pleads  for  their 
bestowment ! 

August  7th.  Mrs.  Griffin  was  removed  by  death,  after  a 
sickness  by  dysentery  of  twelve  days,  on  Tuesday  the  25th  of 
July,  at  half-past  five  o'clock,  P.  M.  aged  67  years,  10  months 
and  11  days;  having  been  born  Sept.  14th,  1769.  Since  the 
funeral  I  have  been  so  unwell  as  to  be  unable  to  enter  this  ac- 
count before.  On  Monday  morning  I  told  her  she  would  pro- 
bably be  in  heaven  before  the  next  morning.  She  said  she 
felt  composed,  and  put  her  trust  in  Christ.  She  told  Dr.  Smith 
that  she  had  in  her  mind  no  uncomfortable  feehngs.  She 
soon  lost  herself  so  far  as  to  be  able  to  add  no  more.  She 
died  an  easy  death.  In  addition  to  an  exemplary  life,  for  se- 
veral months  she  had  exhibited  peculiar  kindness  and  concern 
for  me  and  some  fresh  evidence  of  her  sanctification.  My 
heart  during  all  that  time  had  gone  forth  in  prayer  for  her, 
that  she  might  be  fully  prepared,  and  might  die  an  easy  and 
triumphant  death.  The  prayer  was  answered  as  to  the  out- 
ward circumstances  of  her  death  ;  and  the  strong  desire  I  felt 
for  the  other  part,  gives  me  new  and  very  consoling  evidence 
that  our  loss  is  her  eternal  gain.  The  Spirit  does  not  give 
special  desires  in  order  to  disappoint  them.  It  is  a  stroke  I 
never  felt  before.  I  shall  soon  follow  her.  O  may  this  so- 
lemn dispensation  be  sanctified  to  me  and  to  my  children,  and 
may  we  all  be  supported  under  a  stroke  which  the  love  of  Je- 
sus has  inflicted.  Her  entrance  into  that  blessed  world  makes 
heaven  appear  like  another  apartment  of  my  own  house. 

The  following  letter  from  Mrs.  Smith  to  the 
Compiler  of  this  memoir,  containing  a  minute  ac- 
count of  her  mother's  last  illness  and  death,  cannot, 
it  is  presumed,  be  unacceptable  to  the  reader. 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    DEATH.  219 

Newark,  August  9,  1837. 
Rev.  and  Dear  Sir, 

Your  welcome  and  most  gratifying  letter  to  my  dear 
father  was  this  morning  received,  and  I  hasten  to  convey  to 
you  his  thanks  and  that  of  his  children  for  this  new  expres- 
sion of  kindness,  and  for  your  christian  sympathy  under  our 
sore  bereavement.  It  is  with  melancholy  pleasure  that,  ia 
compliance  with  your  request,  I  review  the  scenes  of  sickness 
and  death  ;  but  I  bless  God,  it  js  with  different  emotions  that 
we  are  permitted,  and  at  times  enabled,  to  follow  the  spirit  of 
my  sainted  mother  to  one  of  those  "many  mansions"  which 
the  Saviour  had  gone  before  to  prepare.  You,  Sir,  knew  our 
departed  friend,  and  to  you  may  I  not  say,  to  know  was  to 
respect,  to  love.  Y^ou  knew  her  to  be  gentle,  kind,  humble, 
refined ;  but  hoio  gentle,  how  humble,  how  forbearing,  how 
guileless,  how  wholly  divested  of  selfishness,  you  cannot  know. 
No,  it  is  only  the  two  who  were  nursed  on  her  bosom,  who 
were  led  by  her  gentle  hand,  who  were  watched  ever  by  her 
tender  eye,  for  whom  she  lived  and  for  whom  she  would  glad- 
ly have  died, — we  only  can  know  what  we  have  lost.  My 
sister  and  I  had  neither  before  witnessed  the  sundering  of  the 
immortal  from  the  mortal  part ;  our  first  definite  conceptions 
of  the  work  of  Death  were  formed  while  watching  his  rava- 
ges upon  that  delicate  frame.  And  though,  as  we  are  assur- 
ed by  all  who  were  present,  he  dealt  his  gentlest  blows,  and 
we  were  enabled  to  feel  that  Infinite  Love  regulated  every 
movement,  yet  the  work  was  awful,  it  was  sure, — it  took  from 
us  a  mother. 

But  I  will  no  longer  speak  of  ourselves ;  it  is  almost  the 
first  time  I  have  been  tempted  to  do  so.  It  is  the  conviction 
that  you.  Sir,  are  peculiarly  fitted  to  share  the  afflictions  of  the 
mourner,  that  has  led  me  thus  freely  to  open  the  recesses  of  a 
bleeding  heart.  But  while  I  now  attempt  to  fulfil  the  pur- 
pose for  which  I  seated  myself,  you  will  see  that  the  same 
Hand  which  placed  in  ours  the  cup  of  sorrow  mingled  with  it 
so  much  sweetness  that  we  almost  at  the  time  forgot  its  bitter- 
ness. 


220  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

You  are  aware,  Sir,  that  my  beloved  mother  suffered  for 
many  years  from  the  frequent  and  periodical  recurrence  of  sick 
head  ache.  I  well  remember  your  mingling  your  sympathies 
upon  this  point,  during  your  late  visit,  and  her  referring  to  the 
similarity  in  your  cases  since.  Since  my  dear  mother's  resi- 
dence with  us,  longer  intervals  had  passed  between  her  head 
aches  than  ever  before  since  my  remembrance,  and  I  had  fond- 
ly hoped  she  was  preparing  for  many  years  of  comfortable 
health.  But  I  now  remembef  that  when  I  congratulated  my- 
self and  her  on  her  freedom  from  head  ache,  she  did  not  seem 
to  enter  into  my  joyful  anticipations.  She  did  not  say  any 
thing  to  check  them,  for  she  loved  to  see  us  happy,  but  I  now 
doubt  not  she  felt  the  increasing  infirmities  of  a  broken  con- 
stitution, perhaps  the  hidden  workings  of  a  fatal  disease  which 
forbade  her  to  look  for  health,  save  in  that  world  where  sick- 
ness cannot  come.  She  had  a  cough  for  more  than  five  years 
which  distressed  her  friends,  but  which  she  never  acknowledged 
as  causing  her  any  pain.  This  cough  disappeared  from  the 
commencement  of  her  last  illness.  Since  the  commencement 
of  warm  weather  my  parents  had  both  improved  in  health. 
My  father  had  preached  seven  sabbaths  in  succession  before 
my  mother's  death.  Four  times  she  heard  him  with  delighted 
interest.  On  the  9th  of  July  she  attended  church  all  day, 
and  afterwards  walked  through  the  burying-ground,  where  18 
days  after  she  was  laid,  and  where  she  did  not  remember  to. 
have  walked  before  since  her  removal  to  Boston.  But  I  lin- 
ger from  the  closing  scene,  as  if  unrecorded  it  would  become 
untrue.  On  the  night  of  the  13th  of  July  my  dear  mother 
was  attacked  with  dysentery.  In  the  morning  she  told  me 
her  system  was  disordered,  and  I  procured  for  her  such  sim- 
ple remedies  as  her  case  seemed  to  require.  She  had  been  so 
'inured  to  suffering,  and  had  learned  to  suffer  so  patiently,  that 
I  think  she  was  not  aware  of  the  nature  or  severity  of  her  dis- 
ease. It  was  not  before  the  sabbath  that  we  became  aware  of 
it.  From  that  time  my  husband  became  anxious,  and  every 
thing  that  affection  and  human  skill  could  do,  was,  I  believe, 
done.     The  disease  seemed  checked  in  its  violence  from  that 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    DEATH.  221 

time  till  the  day  previous  to  her  death ;  but  her  strengtli  was 
wasted  by  an  internal  fever,  which  was  indicated,  not  so  much 
by  the  pulse  and  skin,  as  by  a  constant  thirst,  which  demand- 
ed cold  water  and  ice,  and  which  even  these  did  not  allay. 
Her  reason,  her  calmness,  her  patience,  her  kindness,  never 
for  a  moment  forsook  her,  and  Ellen  and  I  watched  over  her, 
with  sympathy  indeed,  but  with  little  apprehension  of  the  re- 
sult. "  What  ardently  we  wished  we  still  believed,"  and  we 
looked  for  that  on  the  morrow  which  each  day  failed  to  bring, 
an  entire  removal  of  the  disease.  It  was  not  till  the  Saturday 
evening-  previous  to  her  death  that  my  husband's  faithfulness 
forced  us  to  look  upon  her  recovery  as  doubtful.  She  was  then 
very  feeble,  and  we  found  it  necessary  to  apply  both  external 
and  internal  restoratives,  which  soon  brought  warmth  and 
comparative  vigor  to  her  system.  From  about  eight  to  twelve 
we  were  occupied  in  this  way,  during  which  time  1  frequently 
asked  her  if  she  was  in  pain ;  to  which  she  calmly  answered 
"  someP  About  twelve  she  suddenly  became  entirely  relieved, 
and  continued  so  through  the  night.  Every  time  I  laid  my 
hand  on  hers  she  would  open  her  eyes  and  repeat  in  her  sweet- 
est tone,  "  quite  easy."  The  sudden  change  made  me  anxious, 
and  I  went  to  my  husband  repeatedly  through  the  night  to  in- 
quire whether  there  was  cause  for  alarm.  But  as  her  system 
seemed  more  vigorous  in  its  actings  than  the  evening  previous, 
he  ventured  to  hope  she  was  better.  About  daylight  my  mo- 
ther inquired  of  me  what  the  Doctor  thought  of  the  sudden 
change.  I  told  her  he  hoped  she  was  better.  Said  she,  "  1 
never  felt  as  I  did  last  night."  "  How,  mother?"  "  Those 
dying  pains^^-  she  twice  repeated;  and  yet  through  the  whole 
she  had  only  acknowledged  in  answer  to  my  repeated  inqui- 
ries that  she  suffered  '■'•some?  She  continued  more  comforta- 
ble through  the  sabbath;  and  when  my  husband  retired  that 
night  he  pronounced  her  better,  and  expressed  a  hope  that  she 
would  have  a  comfortable  night.  But  when  I  went  into  her 
room  at  one  o'clock  Monday  morning,  I  found  her  restless,  and 
suffering  with  thirst.  I  remained  with  her  through  the  night. 
Early  in  the  morning  my  husband  found  her  feverish  and  her 


222  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

disease  more  alarming  in  its  progress.  From  that  time  he  was 
almost  without  hope,  and  immediately  communicated  his  fears 
to  his  beloved  patient.  "Mother,"  said  he,  '-'you  are  very  ill." 
^'  I  know  it,"  she  calmly  answered.  "  And  I  have  serious 
fears,"  he  added,  "  that  you  will  never  be  any  better.  What 
are  your  feehngs  in  view  of  death?"  ^^  I  have  no  uncomfor- 
tahle  feeling  sP  was  her  reply.  "Are  you  Avilling  to  trust 
yourself  with  the  Saviour  for  hfe  or  death  ?"  "  YesP  Ellen 
then  asked  her  if  she  had  thought  much  of  death  during  her 
sickness.  She  answered,  "  I  don't  know  that  I  have  thought 
more  of  it  than  I  did  when  1  was  well."  She  had  slept  much 
and  conversed  but  little  since  her  illness,  but  when  awake  usu- 
ally lay  with  her  hands  clasped  as  if  in  prayer.  After  break- 
fast ray  father  came  into  the  room,  and,  struck  with  the  great 
change  in  her  countenance,  he  thought  her  actually  dying. 
Feeling  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  he  at  once  exclaimed, 
"  My  dear,  I  think  before  to-morrow  morning  you  will  be  in 
Heaven!"  This  sudden  announcement,  following  so  soon 
upon  the  first  intimation  of  her  danger,  might  have  been  ex- 
pected to  have  produced  at  least  a  momentary  excitement.  I 
was  bending  over  her,  where  I  should  have  seen  if  a  breath 
was  quickened,  or  a  nerve  was  moved ;  but  with  unruffled 
composure,  closing  her  eyes,  she  twice  repeated,  "  I  hope  so.'' 
My  father  said,  "  I  want  you  to  look  to  Christ."  After  a  mo- 
ment's silent  meditation,  she  gently  repeated,  "  Great  sinner, 
great  sinner,  great  Saviour."  She  then  expressed  her  wishes 
as  to  the  disposal  of  her  letters,  clothing,  &c. — sent  messages 
of  love  to  all  her  friends,  (fee.  My  father  said,  "  My  dear,  I 
don't  want  you  to  be  thinking  of  these  trifles.  I  want  you  to 
be  looking  to  Christ."  "  That  is  just  the  reason,"  she  replied, 
"  I  want  to  have  my  mind  at  rest."  I  said,  "  You  are  not 
afraid  to  die."  "No."  "  We  do  not  want  to  part  with  you." 
"  I  do  not,"  she  sweetly  answered.  "  I  hope  we  shall  follow 
you  to  heaven."  "  I  hope  so  ;"  and  placing  her  hand  gently 
on  my  father's  arm,  added.  '-'•It  will  he  but  a  little  whileP 
My  father  asked,  "  Before  we  meet  in  heaven  ?"  "  YesP 
She  had  that  morning  seen  every  member  of  the  family,  and 


NEWARK,   AND   HIS    DEATH.  223 

kissed  her  grand-children.  One  of  them  coming  in  the  second 
time  I  called  her  attention  to  it.  She  answered,  "  I  have  seen 
them  all."  In  less  than  an  hour  from  this  time  she  sunk  into 
a  state  of  insensibility,  from  which  she  roused  not  again,  ex- 
cept to  ask  for  air  and  drink.  Her  intercourse  with  mortals 
was  ended,  but  not  before  she  had  said  all  that  she  wished  and 
all  that  we  could  desire.  At  two  o'clock  on  Tuesday  morning 
my  father  was  called  up  to  see  her  die.  He  said  to  her,  "  My 
dear,  we  think  you  are  dying,  and  I  am  going  to  pray  with 
you."  She  immediately  folded  her  hands  across  her  breast, 
(no  longer  able  to  clasp  them,)  and  fixed  her  glazed  eyes  upon 
him  for  a  moment,  but  before  he  closed  she  sunk  again  into 
insensibihty.  She  thus  alternated  between  life  and  death  till 
some  time  in  the  afternoon  of  Tuesday,  when  suddenly  her 
countenance  assumed  the  fixedness  of  death.  Her  respiration 
became  harder  and  harder,  then  shorter  and  shorter,  then  sud- 
denly ceased.  She  gasped,  then  stretched  herself  as  an  infant 
awaking  from  sleep,  gasped  twice,  stretched  herself  again — 
and  again — The  spirit  had  fled  !* 

There  was  a  heavenly  sweetness  about  her  countenance  af- 
ter death.  Perfect  j)eace  was  written  there.  She  was  laid 
unchanged  in  the  grave  on  Thursday,  27th. 

We  selected  the  3d  hymn.  Book  II,  to  be  sung  at  her  fune- 
ral. Mr.  Eddy  chose  the  very  text  I  had  selected  :  "  Precious 
in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  his  saints."  Doctor 
Hillyer  of  Orange,  the  only  early  friend  of  my  parents  in  the 
ministry  left  in  this  region,  offered  the  prayer. 

The  chamber  of  death  and  the  house  of  mourning  were 
filled  with  long  tried  christian  friends,  who  had  welcomed  her 
return,  and  who  were  anxious  to  pay  the  last  tribute  of  respect. 

I  have  already  mentioned  that  my  father's  health  had  been 
improved  of  late.  He  sustained  this  trial  as  a  christian,  most 
of  the  time  calm,  never  overwhelmed.  But  the  "outward 
man"  quailed  under  the  stroke,  and  for  several  days  after  the 
funeral  he  was  very  feeble ;  his  difficulty  of  breathing  returned, 

•  She  died  at  half  past  5  o'clock,  Tuesday,  July  25. 


224  LAST   RESIDENCE    AT 

and  he  felt  as  if  he  was  soon  to  follow  his  sainted  wife.  "  And 
Oh  how  she  will  welcome  me,"  he  would  exclaim  with  tears. 
He  is  now  much  better,  and  is  going-  to  attempt  supplying 
Mr.  Eddy's  pulpit  for  the  next  five  sabbaths.  He  spoke  at  the 
communion  table  last  sabbath,  and  referred  most  affectingly 
to  the  "  amazing  realities  which  had  broken  upon  the  view  of 
those  who  had  lately  gone  from  our  bosom  to  the  bosom  of  the 
Saviour." 

My  father  wishes  me  to  present  him  to  you  most  affection- 
ately, and  we  all  unite  in  our  gratitude  for  your  prayers  and 
sympathy. 

Believe  me,  Dear  Sir, 

With  respectful  regard,  yours, 

F.  L.  SMITH. 

August  16ih.  I  have  been  blest  this  morning  with  clearer 
views  than  I  ever  had  before.  I  certainly  delight  in  God's 
glory  and  happiness  more  than  in  any  thing  else,  and  I  do 
not  wish  for  a  personal  happiness  distinct  from  that  delight. 
I  do  love  to  lie  at  his  feet  and  to  look  up  from  the  dust  and  see 
him  on  the  throne,  I  desire  above  all  things  to  see  him 
known  and  honored  as  God.  It  is  because  he  is  in  heaven 
tliat  I  wish  to  be  there.  I  rejoice  to  know  that  he  is  his  own 
reward, — all  that  reward  to  himself  that  he  ever  expected  or 
desired.  I  long  to  be  holy  because  it  is  right  and  agreeable  to 
his  will,  and  not  primarily  for^  the  sake  of  the  reward.  The 
happiness  I  seek  is  derived  from  the  happiness  and  glory  of 
God.  I  feel  that  my  sins  against  his  authority  and  happiness 
and  glory,  are  unspeakably  vile,  and  do  deserve  more  misery 
than  I  can  measure,  and  my  judgment  tells  me,  eternal  mi- 
sery. I  love  to  repent.  It  is  a  luxury  to  lie  low  at  his  feet 
and  mourn  for  sin.  Christ  is  precious  to  my  soul,  the  chief 
among  ten  thousands  and  altogether  lovely.  That  God 
should  have  regenerated  me,  according  to  an  eternal  decree 
of  election,  making  all  the  difference  in  my  favor  between  an 
eternal  hell  and  an  eternal  heaven,  lays  me  under  boundless, 
boundless,  boundless  obligations.    My  most  earnest  desire  and 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    DEATH.  225 

prayer  is,  that  I  may  spend  my  life  in  his  service  and  in  hea- 
venly devotion. 

My  practice  founded  on  the  rule  to  pray  without  ceasing- 
and  in  every  thing  to  give  thanks,  has  opened  God  to  my  view, 
somewhat,  I  think,  as  he  will  be  seen  in  heaven, — and  it 
would  be  so  fully  if  the  rule  was  fully  observed.  It  has  esta- 
blished a  habit  of  gratitude  more  constant  and  tender  than  I 
ever  experienced  before. 

Mrs.  Griffin's  death  has  certainly  been  sanctified  to  me,  and 
has  rendered  heaven  more  familiar,  and  real  and  dear.  And 
as  God  had  evidently  prepared  me  for  that  event,  I  know  not 
but  his  present  dealings  are  intended  to  prepare  me  to  follow 
her  soon.  I  should  be  glad  to  live  to  carry  my  MSS.  through 
the  press,  and  for  a  little  while  longer  to  promote  revivals  of 
religion  by  preaching.  I  have  no  wish  to  live  for  any  other 
reason ;  and  I  am  willing  that  God  should  defeat  these  pur- 
poses by  my  removal,  if  he  sees  fit. 

August  20th.  I  certainly  do  love  God  with  great  tender- 
ness. My  heart  is  dissolved  in  gratitude  to  him  for  his  amaz- 
ing and  distinguishing  love.  That  he  is  infinitely  and  eter- 
nally happy,  and  that  he  will  be  known  and  honored  and  glo- 
rified as  God,  are  the  two  sweetest  thoughts  that  ever  enter 
my  mind.  I  think  I  love  him  better  than  myself.  It  has 
been  a  question  whether  to  see  him  known  and  honored  as 
God,  was  my  supreme  desire,  or  whether  a  wish  for  my  own 
happiness  was  stronger.  But  I  am  convinced  that  the  happi- 
ness I  wish  for,  instead  of  being  superior  or  opposed  to  his 
glory,  consists  in  it.  The  delight  of  seeing  him  known  and 
honored,  is  the  very  heaven  I  desire.  I  certainly  long  to  be 
holy  because  it  is  right  and  agreeable  to  the  will  of  God,  an- 
tecedent to  all  considerations  of  reward. 

August  2Ath.  Do  I  love  God  better  than  myself?  My 
happiness  consists  in  the  happiness  and  glory  of  God,  and  in 
his  will's  being  done.  I  do  not,  therefore,  habitually  set  up  my 
own  will  or  happiness  against  him,  and  of  course  do  not  love 
myself  better  than  God,  but  God  better  than  myself.  It  is  my 
supreme  desire  to  see  him  known  and  honored  as  God,  for  I 

Vol.  I.  29 


226  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

place  my  highest  happiness  in  that ;  and  therefore  do  not  set 
my  own  happiness  above  his  honor  and  glory. 

TO  THE  REV.  DR.  TUCKER. 

Newark,  K  J.  August  29ih,  1837. 
My  very  Dear  Brother, 

Your  kind  favor,  by  Mr.  Stafford,  of  the  22d  inst.  was 
duly  received.  I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  sympathy, 
and  thank  dear  Mrs.  Tucker  for  her  participation  of  our  sor- 
row, and  also  your  beloved  children  for  their  kind  and  tender 
feelings.  You  say,  "  we  shall  now  have  another  subject  of 
prayer."  I  thank  you,  my  dear  brother,  and  hope  I  shall  in- 
deed have  an  interest  in  yom-  petitions.  I  value  it  much.  I 
probably  have  been  already  benefited  by  your  prayers.  1  think 
I  liave  enjoyed  the  love  of  God  and  of  Christ  since  the  death 
of  Mrs.  Griffin  more  than  I  ever  did  before.  God  had  been 
preparing  both  her  mind  and  my  own  for  the  solemn  event  for 
eight  months  beforehand,  and  she  died  an  easy  death,  with 
great  tranquillity,  without  any  uncomfortable  feelings  of  mind, 
with  composure  and  trust  in  the  dear  Redeemer.  I  would  not 
call  her  back  for  ten  thousand  worlds. 

"  Thou  art  gone  to  the  grave ;  but  we  will  not  deplore  thee, 
Though  sorrow  and  darkness  encompass  the  tomb ; 

The  Saviour  hath  passed  through  its  portals  before  thee, 
And  the  lamp  of  his  love  is  thy  guide  tiuo-Jgh  the  gloom." 

For  a  million  of  worlds  I  would  not  change  the  counsel  of 
the  Most  High.  The  glory  of  God  and  the  happiness  of  God 
are  certainly  the  two  objects  dearest  to  my  heart,  in  which  I 
most  rejoice,  and  in  which  I  place  my  highest  happiness.  Let 
him  do  with  me  as  seemeth  good  in  his  sight.  It  is  a  most 
overcoming  thought  that  Christ,  after  all  his  obedient  labors, 
asks  for  no  reward, — desires  no  reward, — but  what  consists 
in  blessings  on  us,  together  with  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good 
of  the  universe  therein  involved.  O  the  amazing  love  of  Christ 
portrayed  in  that  glorious  truth  !  I  never  saw  his  love  so  af- 
fecting in  any  other  light. 

My  health  was  affected  by  the  event  for  more  than  a  weeks 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    DEATH.  227 

but  I  have  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  p'reacti.  I  hope 
ere  long  to  renew  the  work  of  transcribing  my  MSS.  about 
which  I  know  you  feel  a  deep  interest.  I  wish  to  live  long 
enough  to  carry  them  through  the  press,  and  to  promote  revi- 
vals of  religion  by  preaching  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  and  by  any 
other  means  in  my  power.  These  are  the  only  two  objects 
for  which  I  wish  to  live.  I  perceive  by  your  letter,  and  your 
kind  request  for  me  to  write,  that  these  several  statements 
would  not  be  ungratifying  to  you.  With  sincere  love  to  Mrs. 
Tucker,  and  the  dear  children,  I  am,  my  beloved  brother. 
Very  affectionately  yours, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

Sept.  \st.  Do  I  long  to  be  delivered  from  sin  more  than 
from  any  other  evil  7  Sin  is  against  the  blessed  God,  against 
his  rightful  authority,  against  his  glory,  against  his  happiness 
because  against  the  happiness  of  his  kingdom,  and  against 
the  life  of  Christ.  In  this  view  of  sin,  as  against  that  glory 
and  happiness  which  are  the  dearest  to  my  heart,  I  think  I 
do  wish  to  be  delivered  from  it  more  than  from  any  other  evii. 

TO  THE  COMPILER  OF  THIS  MEMOIR. 

Newark,  N.  J.  >Sept.  21,  1837. 
My  Beloved  Brother, 

I  received  to-day  the  Argus,  containing  the  distressing 

news  of  the  death  of  our  dear  Mrs.  S ,  and  an  obituary 

notice.  Though  sick,  I  cannot  delay  the  expression  of  my 
heartfelt  grief,  and  my  tenderest  sympathy.  I  know  your 
sorrows,  and  can  enter  into  them  with  the  deepest  interest. 
From  the  moment  I  heard  of  the  event  I  have  been  praying 
for  you  and  your  dear  children.  May  God  support  and  com- 
fort you  and  take  care  of  them.  Our  whole  family  feel  deep- 
ly for  you.  Even  the  children  enter  into  it  as  an  event  very 
interesting  to  them,  in  consequence  of  your  visit  here  and  your 
sympathizing  letter  to  me.  Our  dear  wives  are  now  together, 
and  it  will  be  but  a  few  days  and  we,  I  trust,  shall  be  with 
them.  Mean  time  heaven  must  be  nearer  and  dearer  to  us 
for  their  being  in  it.     God  has  done  it,  and  it  is  riarht.     From 


228  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

his  great  kindness  to  me,  I  trust  the  more  that  he  will  enable 
you  to  rejoice  in  him  more  than  ever  during  this  afflictive  sea- 
son.    Ever  since  the  commencement  of  my  illness,  more  than 
three  years  ago,  he  has  been  pouring  in  truth  in  a  new  and 
affecting  liglit.     For  the  last  six  or  eight  months  it  has  been 
more  so.     But  since  the  death  of  Mrs.  Griffm  it  has  been  so 
more  than  ever,  so  that  I  have  sometimes  apprehended  he  was 
preparing  me  to  follow  her  soo7i.     The  two  sweetest  objects  to 
me  in  the  universe,  and  those  in  which  my  happiness  chiefly 
consists,  are  the  glory  and  the  happiness  of  God.     That  he 
is  infinite  in  his  benevolence  and  wisdom,  is  a  thought  that 
renders  the  universe  rich  beyond  expression.     A  few  weeks 
ago,  in  asking  for  something  as  the  reward  of  Christ,  it  open- 
ed upon  me,  that  he  neither  asks  nor  desires  any  reward,  since 
he  has  taken  his  throne  and  government,  but  what  consists 
in  blessings  on  us,  (together  with  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
good  of  the  universe  therein  involved.)     In  blessings  on  this 
Christ  crucifying  world  !    Never  did  the  love  of  Christ  open 
upon  me  so  before.     I  resolved  to  carry  that  thought  with  me 
to  my  grave,  and  I  love  to  impart  it  to  my  dear  friends.     O 
such  a  God  and  Saviour  !    What  may  they  not  do  to  us  ?    If 
infinite  benevolence  and  wisdom  and  mercy  and  faithfulness, 
have  the  management  of  all  our  affairs  to  the  smallest  parti- 
cular, what  need  we  fear  ?  What  occasion  have  we  to  be  agi- 
tated?   Gabriel  and  Paul  see  the  universe  blest  in  containing 
such  a  God,  and  that  constitutes  their  heaven.     The  same 
heaven  shall  be  ours  to-day,  if  we  will  enter  fully  into  the  love 
and  contemplation  of  that  glorious  God.     Let  him  take  our 
wives  and  our  children, — let  him  take  all  that  we  have, — only 
leave  himself, — and  Paul  and  Gabriel  cannot  be  richer.     O 
my  dear  brother,  it  does  my  heart  good  to  know  how  rich  you 
are,   in  your  deserted  house  and  in  your  lonely  chamber. 
Take  hold  of  those  riches  in  both  your  arms,  and  rise  up 
above  every  anguish,  and  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and 
full  of  glory. 

Doctor  Smith  and  my  two  daughters  unite  with  me  in  ten- 
der love  and  sympathy.     Give  my  tender  love  to  your  dear 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    DEATH.  229 

children,  and  kiss  them  all  for  me.     They  have  a  mother  still, 
and  she  is  where  I  hope  and  pray  they  all  may  be. 

With  the  most  tender  sympathy  in  your  present  afflictions, 
I  am,  my  dear  brother,  most  affectionately  yours, 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN. 

Sept.  28th.  My  former  complaint  has  returned  upon  me 
and  threatens  to  carry  me  off,  I  am  willing  that  God  should 
do  as  it  seemeth  good  in  his  sight.  My  disease  (thought  to 
be  dropsy  in  the  chest)  prevents  me  from  lying  all  night  in 
bed.  The  idea  of  sitting  up  the  most  of  the  night  was  dread- 
ful. But  last  night  it  was  so  delightful  to  think  that  infinite 
wisdom  and  love  would  order  the  whole,  that  I  felt  no  appre- 
hension. The  consequence  was,  that  though  I  had  to  get  up 
at  a  quarter  after  ten,  I  had  a  comfortable  night  and  slept  well 
in  my  chair.     Blessed  be  the  Lord. 

Oct.  1st.  Sahhath.  I  have  done  lying  in  bed,  and  sit  upon 
my  chair  all  night  and  all  day.  The  other  day,  Dr.  Smith, 
in  answer  to  my  inquiry,  told  me  it  was  not  likely  that  I  should 
live  till  spring;  and  was  very  doubtful  whether  I  should  live 
till  January.  The  idea  was  delightful.  I  have  looked  for- 
ward to  death  by  dropsy  in  the  chest  as  very  dreadful ;  but  it 
no  longer  appears  so.  A  sense  that  infinite  wisdom  and  love 
will  order  every  thing  for  me,  leaves  no  anxiety  about  any 
thing.  It  was  very  fatiguing  to  sit  up  nights,  and  I  dreaded 
it  much.  But  that  consideration  of  infinite  wisdom  and  love, 
removed  in  a  minute  all  that  anxiety  some  days  ago,  and  it 
has  not  returned  for  a  moment  since.  It  seems  to  be  about  as 
pleasant  to  sit  up  as  it  formerly  did  to  lie  in  bed.  This  men- 
tal feeling  has  been  aided  by  some  merciful  provisions  which 
render  it  easier  to  sit  in  my  chair. 

I  have  been  deeply  affected  of  late  by  these  most  merciful 
and  faithful  provisions  for  a  poor  wretched  sinner,  so  needful 
for  an  old  man  going  down  into  the  grave  after  his  beloved 
wife.  Not  one  anxious  thought  is  left  me  from  day  to  day 
about  the  event  or  the  manner.  I  am  taken  up  in  thanking 
the  blessed  God  for  his  wonderful  mercy  and  faithfulness  in 


230  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

thus  dealing  with  me.  That  he  should  select  this  time  to  do 
for  me  what  he  never  did  before,  to  remove  every  concern  and 
to  fill  me  with  peace, — to  make  that  most  solemn  event,  and 
all  the  dreaded  means,  no  longer  dreadful,  but  delightful,— is 
proof  of  mercy  and  faithfulness  beyond  the  power  of  language 
to  express.  "Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul;  and  all  that  is  with- 
in me,  bless  his  holy  name." 

Oct.  8th.  JSabbath.  Dr.  Smith  told  me  this  morning  that, 
if  the  swelling  continued  to  increase  as  it  had  done  for  a  fort- 
night past,  I  should  not  probably  live  the  month  out.  The 
idea  was  delightful,  and  awakened  tears  of  gratitude.  O  the 
wonderful  mercy  and  faithfulness  of  God ! 

Oct.  lAth.  1  have  been  very  sick  and  nervous  during  the 
last  week ;  slept  but  httle  and  had  very  uncomfortable  nights, 
with  a  dread  of  the  pressure  for  breath,  which  was  between 
me  and  death.  Yesterday  afternoon  I  saw  that  God  would 
appoint  all  these  things.  The  thought  relieved  and  comforted 
me  at  once,  and  brought  submission  and  trust.  And  that  sub- 
mission and  trust  were  followed  by  such  a  night  as  I  have  not 
had  for  a  considerable  time.  Though  1  had  not  exercised 
any,  on  account  of  the  rain,  I  had  altogether  the  most  com- 
fortable rest  that  I  have  had  since  I  ceased  to  lie  down.  The 
weather  had  changed  to  cold  to  favor  such  a  result.  O  the 
mercies  and  the  faithful  providence  of  God  !  His  interpositions 
are  constant  and  manifest,  and  full  of  mercy  and  faithfulness. 

The  preceding  paragraph  concludes  his  diary; 
for  though  his  death  did  not  occur  till  the  8th  of 
November,  the  rapid  progress  of  his  disease  ren- 
dered him  incapable  of  the  effort  of  writing.  His 
funeral  sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Doctor 
Spring  of  New- York ;  and  shortly  after,  another 
discourse,  occasioned  by  his  death,  was  delivered 
at  Williamstown,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hopkins,  Presi- 
dent of  Williams  College ;  both  of  which  have 
since  been  published. 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    DEATH.  23^ 

The  following  letter  from  Mrs.  Smith  to  a  friend 
in  Boston,  embodies  the  most  important  particulars 
of  her  father's  last  illness  and  death. 

Newark,  Dec.  11,  1837. 
My  very  Dear  Mrs.  K. 

Your  truly  affectionate  letter  was  not  the  less  welcome, 
for  being  one  of  many  with  which  we  have  been  favored  ;  all 
bearing  the  kindest  expressions  of  sympathy  for  us,  and  of 
veneration  and  love  toward  our  dear  departed  parents.  We 
ought  truly  to  adopt  the  language  of  our  bereaved  father : — 
"  The  tender  sympathy  of  our  friends  here  and  abroad,  has 
been  unbounded,  and  the  love  of  our  Father  and  Saviour  has 
been  most  supporting."  We  can  truly  make  the  sentiment  of 
the  beloved  Cowper  our  own  : 

"My  boast  is  not  that  I  deduce  my  birth 
From  loins  enthron'd,  and  rulers  of  the  earth  ; 
But  higher  far  my  proud  pretensions  rise — 
The  child  of  parents  passed  into  the  skies." 

You  could  not  have  imposed  upon  me  a  more  delightful 
task  than  that  of  reviewing  the  never-to-be-forgotten  scenes  of 
my  dear  father's  sickness  and  death.  Oh,  my  friend,  if  you 
have  ever  stood  "  quite  on  the  verge  of  heaven,"  you  have 
been  where  I  stood  for  two  months  ;  each  day  ministering  to 
one  who  seemed  just  ready  to  take  his  upward  flight ;  each 
day  listening,  perhaps  for  the  last  time,  to  the  heavenly  words 
that  fell  from  the  lips  of  my  only  remaining  parent. 

My  cousin  W.  no  doubt  told  you  of  the  "  quiet  spirit"  of  the 
aged,  feeble,  afflicted  saint,  called  so  unexpectedly  to  part  with 
her,  whose  affectionate  sympathy  had  cheered  his  pilgrimage 
for  more  than  forty  years,  and  which  he  had  hoped  would 
bless  him  to  the  end.  Yes,  the  "  angel  of  the  covenant"  sup- 
ported him  as  he  passed  through  these  deep  waters.  He  lean- 
ed upon  the  everlasting  arm,  and  it  failed  him  not.  He  had 
prayed  fervently  that  my  dear  mother's  departure  might  be 
easy  and  triumphant;  and  when  he  saw  this  desire  so  fully 
accomplished,  his  whole  soul  went  forth  in  gratitude  on  her 


232  Last  residence  at 

behalf.  But  this  event  broke  his  hold  on  hfe.  He  murmured 
not,  but  the  outbreakings  of  his  widowed  heart  were  most  af- 
fecting. He  committed  to  memory  those  beautiful  Mnes  of 
Heber,  "  Thou  art  gone  to  the  grave,"  and  often  while  sitting 
at  the  table  they  would  seem  to  rush  upon  his  recollection,  and 
he  would  repeat  them  in  his  own  affecting  manner  with  many 
tears. 

You  remember  his  love  for  sacred  music,  connected  with 
sacred  song.  This  never  forsook  him.  From  the  day  that  he 
came  into  our  family,  it  was  our  custom  to  devote  sabbath  eve- 
nings to  songs  of  praise,  in  which  his  grand-children  were  the 
principal  performers.  These  seasons  were  always  welcomed 
by  my  dear  father,  for  whom  a  chair  was  placed  in  the 
midst  of  the  little  group,  with  whose  infant  voices  his  own 
and  that  of  my  dear  mother  would  sometimes  unite.  He 
often  spoke  of  these  seasons  as  among  his  most  precious  means 
of  grace.  He  copied  in  a  book  all  the  pieces  that  they  sung, 
making  additions  from  time  to  time,  till  within  a  few  weeks  of 
his  death.  The  last  lines  which  he  inserted  were  these — 
"And  to  eternity  love  and  adore."  The  hymn  commences 
thus:  "Come,  thou  Almighty  King."  From  the  commence- 
ment of  his  last  illness,  it  was  his  custom  to  spend  every  eve- 
ning in  the  parlor,  where  he  sat  with  his  little  book  before 
him,  selecting  hymns  for  his  darling  Malvina  to  play  and  sing. 
And  only  the  day  before  his  death,  when,  to  use  his  own  ex- 
pression, "the  agonies  of  death  had  come  upon  him,"  he  was 
led  into  the  parlor,  that  he  might  once  more  listen  to  the  praises 
of  earth,  before  he  went  to  join  in  the  anthems  of  heaven.  It 
will  ever  be  among  Malvina's  most  hallowed  recollections,  that 
she  was  thus  permitted  to  smooth  the  passage  of  this  man  of 
God,  this  endeared  parent,  to  heaven.  Oh,  shall  he  hsten  in 
vain  amidst  a  choir  above  for  one  of  those  voices  which  he  so 
much  loved  to  hear?     *     *     *     * 

*  *  *  *  My  father  continued  to  preach  from  church  to 
church  every  sabbath  till  my  mother's  death,  till  he  had  pro- 
claimed his  last  message  in  seven  of  our  churches  and  in  two 
of  our  neighboring  villages.     In  August  he  was  invited  to  sup- 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    DEATH  233 

ply  the  pulpit  of  the  first  church  during  the  absence  of  our 
pastor.  In  compUance  with  this  request,  he  gathered  up  his 
strength  to  perform  this  last  service  for  the  beloved  church  over 
which  he  had  watched  for  nearly  eight  years  previous  to  his 
residence  in  Boston.  He  preached  seven  sermons  in  four  sab- 
baths :  and  after  this  delivered  his  last  sermon  in  the  pulpit  of 
the  Rev.  J.  H.  Jones  at  New-Brunswick,  a  nephew  of  my 
mother.  This  was  on  the  10th  of  September.  His  text  was 
Jeremiah,  xxxi.  31-34.  The  subject,  Salvation  taken  into 
God's  own  hands.  He  thus  fulfilled  all  his  appointments,  ex- 
cept at  Elizabethtown,  where  he  had  engaged  to  preach  for 
both  Presbyterian  clergymen,  one  of  whom — Rev.  N.  Murray, 
was  his  former  pupil. 

On  the  13th  of  Sept.  the  American  Board  met  here.  On 
the  same  day  my  father  was  taken  suddenly  ill,  and  was  not 
able  to  attend  any  of  the  meetings  except  the  last,  on  the  13th, 
when  he  made  his  last  public  speech  and  prayer.  He  attended 
church  for  the  last  time  on  the  next  sabbath,  and  heard  his 
early  friends,  Drs.  Richards  and  Humphrey  preach.  About 
this  time  a  dropsical  effusion  took  place,  which  progressed  so 
rapidly,  that  from  Thursday  of  the  same  week  he  never  at- 
tempted to  lie  down  again.  He  said  to  me  that  night,  "  I  ne- 
ver expect  to  lie  down  again,  till  I  lie  by  your  mother's  side." 

Previous  to  my  mother's  death,  he  had  attained  to  the  "full 
assurance  of  hope,"  and  this  event,  making  heaven,  as  he 
said,  •'  seem  Uke  another  apartment  in  his  own  house,"  severed 
his  strongest  tie  to  earth,  and  bound  his  thoughts  and  affec- 
tions more  firmly  to  heaven.  From  the  first  appearance  of 
dropsy  he  gave  up  all  thought  of  being  relieved,  and  was  ena- 
bled to  look  without  a  fear  into  that  eternity  which  was  just 
at  hand.  But  the  wearisome  days  and  nights  which  seemed 
appointed  to  him,  and  the  dreadful  closing  scene — from  these 
nature  shrunk.  Even  this  was  but  a  passing  cloud.  The 
thought  that  infinite  wisdom  and  love  would  order  every  cir- 
cumstance; soon  dispelled  it  forever.  After  this  he  was  often 
heard  to  say,  "  God  has  made  it  about  as  pleasant  to  sit  up  as 
it  formerly  was  to  lie  down." 

Vol.  I.  30 


234  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

Tlieie  was  indeed  nothing  of  gloom  about  the  chamber  of 
death,  but  it  was  a  solemn  place ;  one  which  could  not  but 
strengthen  the  faith  of  the  feeblest  saint,  and  which  might 
well  have  shaken  the  confidence  of  the  boldest  infidel.  The 
beloved  patient,  not  content  with  his  own  sure  prospect  of  eter- 
nal life,  was  constant  in  his  intercessions  for  a  ruined  world. 
There  were  more  than  forty  individuals  among  his  impenitent 
friends  whom  he  bore  on  his  heart  before  the  Mercy  Seat  ma- 
ny times  each  day.  And  as  he  had  opportunity,  he  failed  not 
to  warn  every  one  of  them  with  tears. 

There  was  a  "joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory"  which 
seemed  to  fill  his  soul.  There  was  that  peace  of  which  the 
Saviour  spoke  when  he  said,  "My  peace  I  give  unto  you." 
There  was  indeed  a  majesty  in  the  calmness,  the  faith,  the 
love,  the  submission,  the  gratitude  of  this  dying  saint,  which 
words  cannot  describe.  And  yet  there  was  no  mere  animal 
excitement.  To  a  friend,  who  asked  him  what  his  views  of 
heaven  were,  he  replied,  "My  mind  is  too  weak  for  lively 
views.  I  know  heaven  must  be  a  blessed  place.  God  is  there. 
Christ  is  there."  This  view  seemed  to  satisfy  him.  To  my 
mind  there  was  something  more  delightful  in  the  filial  confi- 
dence with  which  he  committed  himself  to  his  Heavenly  Fa- 
ther, than  in  those  enlarged  and  exciting  views  which  might 
have  been  expected  from  such  a  man  as  he. 

His  humility  w^as  affecting.  The  touch  of  death  disturbed 
not  the  tranquility  of  his  features;  but  it  was  disturbed  by  the 
remark  of  a  friend,  to  whom,  after  bearing  testimony  to  the 
kindness  of  his  Heavenly  Father,  he  had  said,  "And  you 
may  expect  that  he  will  do  the  same  for  you  when  you  come 
to  die."  She  replied,  "  If  I  am  only  as  faithful  as  you."  For 
a  moment  he  was  silent,  and  then  with  deep  feeling  he  rejoined, 
"Don't  say  that  again,  sister:  it  is  not  because  I  am  good,  but 
because  Christ  has  died." 

His  gratitude  was  constant.  After  adverting  to  some  sim- 
ple provisions  for  his  comfort,  he  added,  "  Your  love  to  your 
sick  and  dying  infant  is  hatred,  compared  with  the  love  of  my 
Heavenly  Father  towards  me." 


NEWARK;    ANIi    HIS    DEATH.  235 

His  submission  was  truly  filial.  After  stating  to  a  friend 
that  he  never  expected  to  lie  down  again,  till  he  was  laid  down 
for  the  grave,  he  sweetly  added,  '-And  I  am  willing  to  sit 
here,  just  as  you  see  me  now,  for  twenty  years,  if  it  is  God's 
will." 

His  love  to  the  Saviour  kindled  into  a  brighter,  purer  flame 
as  he  traversed  the  ascent  of  Pisgah.  To  a  nephew,  who  vi- 
sited him  in  August,  he  remarked,  '•'  Never  did  1  have  such 
views  of  the  Saviour  as  I  have  had  for  the  last  two  months  ;— 
never  before  such  as  I  have  had  for  the  last  week." 

He  received  every  intimation  of  the  rapid  progress  of  his 
disease  with  expressions,  and  often  with  tears,  of  gratitude. 
It  was  not  impatience  to  be  released  from  suffering ;  for  He  to 
whom  with  filial  confidence  he  had  committed  himself,  carried 
him  so  gently  down,  that  he  never  spoke  of  pain,  except  for  a 
short  time  on  the  day  previous  to  his  death  (Tuesday.)  He 
then  said,  "  You  talk  of  dying  agonies;  they  have  come  upon 
me."  Being  asked  if  he  could  describe  them,  he  answered, 
with  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  "  Something  here  that  will  not 
let  me  sleep  or  breathe  hardly."  It  was  in  this  emergency 
that  he  sought  the  sweet  influence  of  music.  While  he  sat 
by  the  piano,  one  of  his  brethren  in  the  ministry  came  in. 
My  father,  extending  his  hand  to  him  as  he  entered,  said, 
"You  see  me  just  going  home."  His  friend  said,  "It  has  of- 
ten been  your  privilege  to  administer  consolation  to  the  dying: 
I  trust  you  experience  all  those  consolations  you  have  offered 
to  others."  Raising  his  voice  in  the  most  emphatic  manner? 
he  repeated,  "More, — more, — much  more." 

On  the  sabbath  previous  to  his  death,  new  symptoms  ap- 
pearing, he  was  told  that  his  disease  was  approaching  a  crisis ; 
and  subsequently,  that  it  might  form  one  in  twenty-four  hours. 
On  Monday,  a  long-tried  friend  who  called,  said  to  him, 
"  Your  journey  is  almost  over."  "  Blessed  be  God,"  said  he, 
— "  twelve  hcfurs." 

To  his  grand-children  and  the  domestics  he  gave  his  part- 
ing charge  to  meet  him  in  heaven. 


236  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

To  Malvina  he  said,  "  I  want  you  to  examine  yourself  a 
great  deal  before  you  venture  to  hope." 

To  Edward  and  Lyndon,  "  You  must  give  your  heart  to 
the  Saviour.     Don't  put  it  off  another  hour." 

To  Frances,  "Be  a  good  girl,  and  give  your  heart  to  the 
Saviour  while  you  are  young." 

On  Tuesday  morning,  Nov.  7th,  we  were  called  up  to  see 
him  die.  He  was,  as  usual,  panting  for  breath.  My  husband 
asked  him  if  he  suffered  any  pain.  "  None,"  said  he,  and 
then  broke  out  in  the  following  expressions,  interrupted,  scarce- 
ly audible,  but  most  impressive.  "My  Heavenly  Father, — 
my  dear  Redeemer, — wonderful  in  mercy  and  faithfulness  ! 
I  pray  you  to  give  him  glory  forever  and  ever."  Being  asked 
if  he  still  continued  to  dread  the  dying  struggle,  "  No,"  said 
he ;  "I  leave  it  all  with  God ;  I  refer  it  all  to  his  will." 

In  the  afternoon  his  brother  inquired  if  his  mind  was  still 
unclouded.  "  Without  a  doubt,"  was  his  prompt  and  empha- 
tic reply.  After  bathing  his  feet,  he  cheerfully  said,  "  I  never 
expect  to  bathe  my  feet  again.  My  soul  I  hope  to  wash  in 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb."  He  bade  his  brother,  who  was 
obliged  to  leave  him,  a  cheerful  and  affectionate  farewell.  He 
gave  his  parting  blessing  to  all  who  called  to  see  him,  and 
failed  not  to  send  messages  of  love  to  the  absent  members  of 
their  families. 

Early  in  the  evening,  a  beloved  friend,  a  sister  of  my  hus- 
band, was  introduced  to  him.  "  I  do  not  recollect  my  friends 
now,"  said  he.  "  You  remember  the  dear  Saviour  who  is  by 
you  ?"  she  asked.  "  Oh  yes,"  emphatically  ;  "  he  never  so 
manifested  his  preciousness  to  me  before."  After  his  grand- 
children, excepting  Malvina,  had  left  the  room  for  the  night, 
having  received  as  usual  the  parting  kiss,  Sarah  repeated  to 
him  several  of  his  favorite  hymns,  at  the  close  of  each  of  which 
he  exclaimed,  "precious, — very  precious."  These  were  among 
his  last  recollections  of  earth.  While  we  stood  around  him,  he 
fell  into  a  gentle  sleep ;  and  five  minutes  before  four  o'clock 
on  Wednesday  morning,  Nov.  8th,  ceased  to  breathe,  without 
a  struggle  or  a  groan.     His  age  was  sixty-seven  years,  ten 


NEWARK,    AND   HIS    DEATH.  237 

months,  two  days  ;  nine  days  younger  than  my  beloved  mo- 
ther. He  served  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  the  gospel  ministry, 
foity-five  years. 

Every  expression  of  veneration  and  love  has  been  paid  to 
the  memory  of  this  man  of  God.  His  funeral  was  attended 
in  the  first  Presbyterian  church,  where  hundreds  pressed  to 
take  a  last  look,  and  to  read  the  inscription  placed  upon  his 
breast :  "  Remember  the  words  which  I  spake  unto  you  while 
I  was  yet  present  with  you."  Most  of  the  clergymen  in  this 
city  preached  with  reference  to  his  death.  One  of  them  al- 
luding to  the  providence  which  brought  him  back  to  New- 
ark, beautifully  remarked :  "  It  was  fitting  that  he  who  came 
in  his  youth  to  teach  us  how  to  live,  should  come,  when  his 
head  was  gray,  to  show  us  how  to  die.  It  was  fitting  that  he 
should  lie  side  by  side  till  the  resurrection  morn,  with  tliem  to 
whom  he  had  preached  Christ  'the  resurrection  and  the 
life.'  " 

"  Devout  men  "  bore  both  my  parents  to  the  grave ;  where 
they  lie  side  by  side,  on  the  very  spot  purchased  by  my  father 
for  a  burial-place  before  his  removal  to  Boston.  The  following 
inscriptions  mark  the  spot : 

SACRED  *SACRED 

to  the  memory  of  to  the  memory  of 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Mrs.  FRANCES  GRIFFIN, 

EDWARD  DORR  GRIFFIN,  Wife  of  the 

who  departed  this  life  Rev.  Dr.  Edward  D.  Griffin, 

in  the  hope  who  departed  this  life 

of  a  glorious  immortality,  in  the  hope 

Nov.  8th,  1837,  of  a  glorious  immortality, 

in  the  68th  year  July  25th,  1837, 

of  his  age.  in  the   6Sth  year 

They  that  turn  many  to  righteous-  of  her  age. 

ness  shall  shine  as  the  stars  for-      In  her  tongue  was  the  law  of  kind- 
ever  and  ever.  ne.ss. 

On  such  the  second  death  hath  no 
power. 
Oh  death  where  is  Ihy  sting ! 
Oil  grave  where  is  thy  victory 

•  This  was  written  by  my  father. 


238  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

The  disease  which  in  its  accumulated  ravages  wasted  my 
father's  strength,  and  laid  him  in  the  grave,  was  of  more 
than  four  years  continuance.  It  apparently  commenced  in  a 
shght  attack  of  paralysis,  affecting  his  left  side,  in  the  spring 
of  '33.  It  resulted,  as  ascertained  by  a  post  mortem  exami- 
nation, in  an  enlargement  and  softening  of  the  heart.  The 
immediate  cause  of  death  was  a  general  dropsical  effusion. 

In  August,  1834,  symptoms  of  dropsy  in  the  chest  appear- 
ed. I  have  often  heard  him  describe  its  commencement.  "  I 
awoke,"  said  he,  "  with  a  new  and  dreadful  sensation  here," 
laying  his  hand  upon  his  breast ;  "  and  I  asked  myself,  what 
if  only  this  were  eternal !  The  thought  was  overwhelm- 
ing. My  mind  at  once  turned  to  some  whom  I  had  loved, 
and  who  had  gone  into  eternity,  leaving  no  evidence  that 
they  were  prepared  for  heaven.  The  scene  of  their  suffer- 
ings became  as  real  as  though  I  had  stood  on  the  margin 
of  the  burning  lake."  I  visited  WilUamstown  soon  after  this 
memorable  night,  and  found  this  impression  stamped  upon 
his  soul.  He  was  as  solemn  as  though  he  had  indeed  seen 
the  dread  reality.  His  mind  was  weighed  down  with  the 
prospect  of  the  eternal,  the  unendurable  suffering  of  the  wick- 
ed ;  and  it  was  not  until  he  was  enabled  to  take  a  compre- 
hensive view  of  the  government  of  God,  that  he  threw  off  the 
gloom  that  rested  upon  his  mind.  It  was  the  only  time  I  ever 
saw  him  gloomy.  From  this  time  the  salvation  of  souls  from 
this  eternity  of  misery,  was  the  one  subject  that  occupied  his 
time,  his  conversation,  and  his  prayers.  From  this  time  may 
be  traced  his  rapid  increase  in  spirituaUty,  and  his  evident  ri- 
pening for  heaven.  Soon  after,  his  symptoms  became  alarm- 
ing, but  for  himself  he  manifested  no  anxiety.  The  passage 
in  Phil.  iv.  6,  7,  seemed  to  dwell  upon  his  mind,  and  to  leave 
its  own  impress  there.  These  dropsical  symptoms  soon  yield- 
ed to  medical  skill,  and  returned  not  again  till  after  my  mo- 
ther's death.  But  that  noble  frame  which  had  stood  firm  and 
erect  for  more  than  sixty  winters,  was  henceforth  to  crumble 
away  under  the  influence  of  disease. 

On  ray  father's  return  to  this  scene  of  his  early  labors,  he 


NEWARK,    AND   HIS   DEATH.  239 

was  welcomed  with  a  warmth  of  affection,  to  him  unexpected 
and  overwhehning.  Here  he  found  many  of  his  spiritual 
children,  who  hastened  to  remind  him  of  their  spiritual  rela- 
tions ;  and  many  of  the  children  of  his  departed  friends,  whose 
parents  had  taught  them  to  honor  him  from  their  infancy. 
Here  too  he  found  the  aged  sinner,  who  in  former  years  had 
listened  to  his  appeals  as  an  ambassador  for  God ;  and  here 
and  there  a  child  of  the  covenant,  who  was  yet  an  "  alien 
from  the  commonwealth  of  Israel."  Amidst  such  recognitions, 
the  yearnings  of  a  pastor's  heart  revived.  Early  in  the  spring 
he  commenced  a  course  of  visitation,  which  occupied  his  morn- 
ings for  several  successive  weeks.  And  who  that  marked  his 
feeble  footsteps  as  he  bent  before  the  chilling  blast,  but  felt 
that  some  mighty  purpose  moved  his  soul?  These  visits, 
these  admonitions,  these  prayers  of  anxious  love,  can  never 
be  forgotten.  They  will  be  reviewed  at  the  judgment.  God 
grant  that  they  may  not  then  appear  as  a  witness  against  any 
whom  he  sought  to  save  ! 

He  preached  eighteen  sermons  during  the  last  year,  besides 
attending  several  funerals  and  addressing  us,  in  his  own  im- 
pressive manner,  at  our  communion  seasons. 

The  only  objects  for  which  he  wished  to  live,  as  he  repeat- 
edly said,  were  to  promote  revivals  of  religion  by  his  prayers, 
conversation  and  preaching,  and  to  prepare  his  MSS.  for  the 
press.  For  this  he  was  wilUng  awhile  to  linger  an  exile  from 
heaven. 

He  was  permitted  to  sow  the  good  seed  in  many  hearts ; — 
to  lay  up  a  rich  inheritance  of  prayer  for  his  children  and 
friends  ; — to  commend  the  departing  spirit  of  his  beloved  wife 
to  his  Saviour  and  hers,  and  to  see  her  precious  remains  safe- 
ly deposited  in  sure  hope  of  a  glorious  resurrection  ; — to  show 
us  how  a  good  man  may  live,  and  how  too  he  may  die ; — and 
then  he  was  taken,  I  doubt  not,  to  the  "  rest  that  remaineth 
to  the  people  of  God."  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in  the 
Lord.  They  rest  from  their  labors,  and  their  works  do  follow 
them." 

Your  affectionate  friend, 

FRANCES  LOUISA  SMITH. 


240  LAST  RESIDENCE  AT 

FROM  THE  FACULTY  OF  WILLIAMS  COLLEGE  TO 
DR.  SMITH. 

The  Faculty  of  Williams  College,  having  recently  heard 
of  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Griffin,  and  having  been  long 
associated  with  him  either  as  his  pupils,  or  in  the  instruction 
and  government  of  the  college,  are  desirous  to  express  to  his 
family  and  near  friends  their  sincere  sympathy  with  them  in 
their  bereavement,  and  the  high  sense  which  they  entertain 
of  his  talents  and  worth. 

They  feel  that  a  great  man,  and  a  benefactor  of  his  age 
has  departed.  From  his  powers  as  a  pulpit  orator,  and  the 
peculiar  positions  which  he  occupied,  his  influence  as  a  preach- 
er will  be  long  felt,  while  his  writings  must  take  their  place 
among  standard  theological  works. 

Of  his  connexion  with  this  College,  we,  in  common  with 
all  its  friends,  would  speak  with  gratitude.  To  him,  probably 
more  than  to  any  other  man,  is  it  owing  that  this  College  was 
placed  on  a  permanent  foundation,  and  enjoys  its  present  de- 
gree of  prosperity.  His  labors  in  its  behalf  were  arduous,  per- 
severing and  successful.  During  his  Presidency  the  College 
enjoyed  several  powerful  revivals  of  religion,  and  it  was  espe- 
cially from  its  connection  with  the  cause  of  Christ,  that  he 
watched  over  its  interests  and  prayed  for  it.  Through  his  pu- 
pils his  influence  is  now  felt  in  heathen  lands. 

We  rejoice  to  hear  that  his  death  was  peaceful,  and  that  in 
that  trying  hour  he  was  supported  by  the  religion  which  he 
had  so  long  preached,  and  so  extensively  promoted. 

The  former  members  of  his  family,  whom  we  can  never 
cease  to  regard  with  interest,  will  please  accept,  together  with 
yourself,  our  respectful  and  affectionate  remembrance. 
In  behalf  of  the  Faculty, 

M.  HOPKINS,  PresH. 

Dr.  L.  a.  Smith. 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    DEATH.  241 

FROM  THE  REV.  HOLLIS  READ  TO  MISS  GRIFFIN. 

Babylon,  Nov.  I3th,  1837. 
My  Dear  Miss  Griffin, 

The  Newark  Daily  Advertiser,  announcing  the  death  of 
your  dear  and  venerated  father,  has  this  moment  reached  me. 
The  first  impulse  of  my  heart — that  ever  beat  with  love  and 
gratitude  to  that  ever-blessed,  but  now  glorified  saint,  and  with 
the  most  tender  and  respectful  affection  for  his  family,  is  to  beg 
the  privilege  and  honor  of  mingling  my  tears  with  yours  on 
this  mournful  occasion.  But  how  mournful?  I  mourn  for 
myself  that  1  have  lost  so  valuable  a  counsellor,  and  so  dear 
a  father  and  friend.  I  mourn  for  you,  dear  sister,  and  for  all 
those  to  whom  he  was  so  justly  dear  and  valued.  I  mourn 
for  the  church  of  Christ  and  for  this  dark  world,  because  an- 
other bright  and  shining  light  has  sunk  below  our  horizon. 
But  here  my  mourning  stops.  My  tears  dry.  I  look  up  and 
see  that  innumerable  throng  around  the  throne.  I  listen — a 
new  harp  is  strung.  A  new  voice  is  heard.  Its  infant  notes 
are  distinguished  amidst  the  countless  host.  They  mingle 
with  the  harmonious  sounds  of  the  ten  thousand  times  ten 
thousand  in  the  New  .Jerusalem.  It  is  the  voice  of  our  father. 
Yes,  of  our  father.  I  am  the  son  of  the  travail  of  his  soul. 
He  has  entered  "  the  gates  of  pearl."  He  walks  the  golden 
streets.  He  finds  peace  within  its  jasper  walls — rest  on  its 
"  precious  "  foundations.  Though  the  mortal  part  slumbereth 
in  the  dark  grave,  yet  slumbereth  not  the  spirit.  He  hath  no 
need  of  the  sun  to  shine  upon  it,  for  the  glory  of  the  Lord  en- 
lighteneth  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof 

Thanks  then  to  God  that  he  has  gone  before  us.  Heaven 
is  now  nearer,  dearer,  sweeter.  Is  it  not  pleasant  to  think  that 
our  dear  father  waits  to  receive  and  welcome  us?  He  has 
taught  us  here  how  to  sing  the  song  of  redeeming  love.  And 
now,  since  he  has  gone  to  take  lessons  at  the  feet  of  infinite 
Perfection,  may  he  not  there  again  teach  our  unfledged  souls 
to  soar  and  sing  and  praise  him  that  loved  us  and  washed  us  ' 
from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood  ? 

Happy,  happy  saint!    We  love  to  follow  him.     We  love  to 

Vol.!  31 


242  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

listen  to  the  sweet  sound  of  his  heavenly  music  now.  We 
love  to  look  back  and  recall  the  past.  What  scenes  with  us 
are  associated  with  one  period  of  his  ministry !  We  love  to 
contemplate  him  now  so  soon  reunited  in  the  bonds  of  ever- 
lasting love,  to  your  dear  mother ;  forever  joined  in  holy  ac- 
tivity and  ceaseless  praise  with  "  heaven's  best  gift "  in  his 
earthly  pilgrimage. 

But  hark  !  there  comes  another  sound  from  those  once  loved 
and  always  revered  lips.  It  is  a  sound  of  warning,  of  fear 
and  trembling,  for  his  spiritual  sons  and  daughters.  It  comes 
to  me ;  to  you ;  to  all  who  stand  in  this  endeared  relation.  It 
says,  "beware" — "watch" — "strive" — "fear  lest  a  promise 
being  left — some  of  you  should  come  short  of  it." 

But  I  must  close.  Accept  my  most  heart-felt  condolence  in 
this  hour  of  severe  bereavement.  Your  tears  will  flow.  It  is 
nature.  It  is  right.  You  know  the  Mourner's  Friend.  Your 
Redeemer  liveth.     May  he  be  found  a  ready  help. 

Mrs.  Read  unites  with  me  in  hearty  sympa'hy  and  affec- 
tionate regards  to  yourself  and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Smith.  I  beg 
they  will  receive  this  humble  token  of  condolence  and  affec- 
tion equally  with  yourself. 

Yours  very  affectionately, 

H.  READ. 

FROM  THE  REV.  DOCTOR  HUMPHREY  TO  DR.  GRIFFIN'S 
CHILDREN. 

Amherst  College^  Nov.  13th,  1837. 
My  afflicted  Friends, 

The  southern  mail,  last  evening,  brought  us  the  intelli- 
gence that  your  revered  and  honored  father  has  fallen  asleep ! 
Soon,  but  not  too  soon  for  him,  has  he  followed  your  beloved 
mother,  as  we  confidently  believe,  to  her  eternal  rest.  The 
news  was  not  so  unexpected  as  to  be  surprising;  for  when  I 
saw  him  at  the  meeting  of  the  American  Board,  his  hold  on 
life  appeared  too  feeble  to  last  long.  I  have  known  Dr.  Grif- 
fin for  about  forty  years,  and  have  always  regarded  him  as 
one  of  the  most  eloquent,  pungent,  and  useful  preachers,  that 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    DEATH.  243 

I  ever  heard.  There  was  a  melody,  a  solemnity,  a  charm  in 
his  voice,  during  all  the  prime  of  his  ministry,  and  even  up  to 
the  age  of  sixty,  which  always  struck  strangers  as  very  re- 
markable, and  what  was  of  infinitely  greater  importance,  he 
dealt  so  faithfully  with  the  conscience,  that  few  could  go  away 
so  much  admiring  the  preacher  as  to  forget  themselves. 

His  natural  talents  were  certainly  of  a  high  order.  His 
mind,  if  not  quite  so  rapid  in  its  movements  as  some  others, 
was  highly  discriminating.  He  could  grasp  a  difficult  subject 
with  much  apparent  ease,  and  hold  it  at  his  pleasure.  He 
saw  the  relations  and  differences  of  things,  with  uncommon 
perspicuity ;  and  what  he  saw  clearly  himself,  he  knew  how 
to  present  in  a  strong  light  to  other  minds.  Of  this  there  are 
many  fine  examples  in  his  Park-street  Lectures — a  book  by 
the  way,  which  will  go  down  to  posterity. 

To  say  nothing  of  the  eminent  services  which  he  rendered 
to  religion  and  learning,  in  other  stations,  few  ministers  of  the 
age,  I  believe,  have  been  instrumental  of  awakening  and  sav- 
ing more  souls  than  Dr.  Griffin.  How  will  his  crown  of  re- 
joicing sparkle  with  gems  in  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus ! 
Though  he  spent  more  time  in  several  other  places  than  in 
Boston,  I  have  always  been  impressed  with  the  belief,  that  his 
pre-eminent  usefulness  was  on  that  ground.  When  he  went 
there,  the  piety  of  the  pilgrim  fathers  had  nearly  ceased  to 
warm  the  bosoms  of  their  descendants.  Calvinism  was  a  bye- 
word  and  reproach.  Orthodoxy  hardly  dared  to  show  its  head 
in  any  of  the  Congregational  pulpits.  It  wanted  a  strong  arm 
to  hold  up  the  standard  of  the  cross,  a  strong  voice  to  cry  in 
the  ears  of  the  people,  and  a  bold  heart  to  encounter  the  scorn 
and  the  talent  that  were  arrayed  against  him.  And  nobly,  in 
the  fear  and  strength  of  the  Lord,  did  he  "  quit  himself." 

Nothing  was  more  striking  in  his  character,  than  the  high 
ground  which  he  always  took  in  exhibiting  the  offensive  doc- 
trines of  the  gospel,  particularly  divine  sovereignty,  election, 
the  total  depravity  of  the  natural  heart,  and  the  necessity  of 
regeneration.  These  doctrines  he  exhibited  with  great  clear- 
ness and  power,  before  friends  and  enemies.     The  crisis  re- 


244  LAST    RESIDENCE    AT 

quired  just  such  a  master-spirit,  and  Boston  felt  his  power ;  or 
rather  felt  the  power  of  God,  which  I  must  think  wrought  in 
him  mightily  during  his  short  ministry  in  Park-street.  From 
the  time  of  his  going  there,  orthodoxy  began  to  revive;  and 
we  all  know  how  many  flourishing  churches  have,  as  it  were, 
sprung  from  that  one  stock. 

With  your  thrice  honored  father  God  was  every  thing,  and 
man  was  nothing.  He  wanted  to  see  every  body  lying  at  the 
footstool  with  perfect  submission  to  the  divine  will,  putting  a 
blank  into  God's  hands,  to  be  filled  up  just  according  to  his 
infinite  wisdom  and  pleasure;  and  there  he  loved  to  lie  him- 
self. This  w^as  the  theme  of  his  remarks  when  I  saw  him  at 
your  house,  a  few  weeks  ago.  He  seemed  fully  resolved,  that 
if  ever  he  was  saved,  God  should  have  all  the  glory  of  it — 
that  if  he  went  to  heaven,  he  would  go  there  to  sing  redeem- 
ing love.  Never  shall  we  forget  either  his  address,  or  his  pray- 
er, on  the  last  forenoon  of  our  session  in  your  church.  Both 
were  close  on  the  verge  of  heaven  !  And  how  exquisitely  did 
he  enjoy  the  hymns  of  praise  in  your  family  circle  on  the 
evening  of  the  sabbath  when  I  saw  him  last. 

Most  sincerely  do  I  sympatliize  with  you  in  your  afflictions, 
and  rejoice  with  you  too,  in  the  bright  hopes  which  shine  up- 
on the  path  of  your  sorrows.  May  the  Lord  bless  and  sanc- 
tify you;  and  may  you  ever  be  followers  of  those,  who  through 
faith  and  patience  inherit  the  promises  ! 

I  am,  very  sincerely,  your  friend, 

H.  HUMPHREY. 

The  following  letter  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Burder 
of  London,  shows  in  what  estimation  Dr.  Grif- 
fin's character  was  held  abroad. 

Hackney^  June  7ih,  1831. 
Rev.  and  Dear  Sir, 

It  cannot  but  be  gratifying  to  me  to  have  an  opportunity 
of  addressing  a  few  lines  to  you,  under  circumstances  which 
shelter  me  from  the  charge  of  being  obtrusive.     A  few  days 


NEWARK,    AND    HIS    CEATH.  246 

ago  I  had  the  honor  of  receiving  the  diploma  which  bears 
your  signature ;  and  in  my  view,  if  the  entire  value  of  that 
document  were  derived  from  that  revered  name,  it  would  be 
entitled  to  warmer  acknowledgments  than  my  words  can  con- 
vey. I  feel,  however,  greatly  indebted  to  every  member  of 
the  "  Senatus  Academicus,"  as  well  as  to  their  honored  Presi- 
dent, for  the  degree  which  has  been  conferred  in  a  manner  so 
kind,  and  handsome,  and  indulgent.  To  you,  my  Dear  Sir, 
and  to  the  learned  body  over  which  you  preside,  I  owe,  in 
some  respects,  even  a  greater  debt  of  gratitude  than  to  the 
University  of  Glasgow,  where  I  pursued  my  studies,  whose 
kindness  has  conferred  a  similar  honor.  May  I  become  less 
unworthy  of  a  distinction  which  I  could  never  have  presumed 
to  solicit! 

Through  the  kindness  of  our  mutual  friend.  Dr.  S.,  I  have 
had  the  pleasure  of  cultivating  that  kind  of  acquaintance  with 
you,  my  Dear  Sir,  which  is  rendered  practicable  by  the  press. 
To  many  of  the  habitual  and  powerful  workings  of  your  mind 
I  am  no  stranger.  You  have  assisted  me  in  my  feeble  efforts 
to  seek  a  "Heavenly  mind."  Your  Park-st.  lectures  have 
given  many  a  vigorous  impulse  to  my  thoughts  on  the  great 
things  of  God;  and  this  very  morning  I  have  peiused,  with 
no  ordinary  emotions,  your  Murray-st.  discourse  on  "  glory- 
ing in  the  Lord."  May  those  energies  of  intellect  which  the 
Father  of  spirits  has  awakened  and  consecrated,  long  be  con- 
tinued, in  unimpaired  power,  for  a  blessing  to  America,  to 
Britain,  to  the  world. 

I  am  beyond  expression  interested  and  impressed  by  the  in- 
telligence I  have  received  in  reference  to  the  present  revivals 
of  religion  in  your  happy  and  honored  country.  Oh  what  a 
day  of  glory  has  dawned  upon  your  churches!  Did  my  fa- 
mily (of  foiu-  children,  now  motherless,)  and  my  flock  per- 
mit, how  enraptured  I  should  be  to  cross  the  ocean  and  min- 
gle with  you  in  your  joys  and  thanksgivings  and  supplica- 
tions. Oh  pray,  my  Dear  Sir,  for  us,  that  the  blessed  influen- 
ces of  the  Holy  One  may  thus  descend  upon  the  land  of  your 
fathers ! 


246  LATE    RESIDENCE,   &C. 

With  blended  emotions,  of  gratitude,  respect,  and  attach- 
ment, believe  me  to  be,  Rev.  and  Dear  Sir,  very  cordially, 
and  faithfully,  and  obediently,  yours, 

HENRY  FORSTER  BURDER. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

GENERAL  ESTIMATE  OF  HIS  CHARACTER  AND  INFLUENCE, 

It  has  been  the  design  of  the  preceding  chapters 
to  exhibit  Doctor  Griffin's  general  course  through 
life,  in  connexion  with  such  extracts  from  his  pri- 
vate journal  as  seemed  best  adapted  to  illustrate  the 
various  stages  of  his  christian  experience.  It  only 
remains  to  present  some  of  the  more  prominent  fea- 
tures of  his  character  a  little  in  detail,  and  to  at- 
tempt some  general  estimate  of  the  extended  and 
diversified  influence  of  his  life. 

Doctor  Griffin  was  remarkable  in  his  physical 
conformation.  '  He  measured  six  feet  and  nearly 
three  inches  from  the  ground,  and  his  frame  was 
every  way  well  proportioned.  His  gigantic  and 
noble  form  attracted  the  attenlion  of  strangers  as 
he  walked  the  streets ;  and  when  he  rose  in  a  great 
assembly,  he  towered  so  much  above  the  rest  as  to 
throw  around  men  of  ordinary  stature  an  air  of  in- 
significance. His  countenance  was  peculiar — ex- 
pressive both  of  strong  thought  and  strong  feeling ; 
and  those  who  knew  him  will  recognize  a  faithful 
delineation,  both  of  his  features  and  his  expression, 
in  the  engraved  portrait  prefixed  to  this  memoir. 
Though  he  was  somewhat  feeble  in  his  early  child- 


248  HIS    CHARACTER 

hood,  he  ultimately  developed  a  fine  constitution,  and 
during  much  the  greater  part  of  his  life  possessed  an 
uncommon  share  of  physical  vigor.  It  may  also  be 
mentioned  in  this  connexion,  that  he  was  remarka- 
ble, even  to  the  last  day  of  his  life,  for  his  habits 
of  personal  neatness.  "  The  last  sun  that  shone 
upon  him,"  says  a  member  of  his  family,  "  found 
him  brushing  his  teeth  as  thoroughly  as  he  ever  did? 
and  his  regular  shaving  and  change  of  apparel  were 
never  intermitted." 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  Doctor  Griffin 
was  quite  as  extraordinary  in  his  intellectual  charac- 
ter as  in  his  physical  powers  and  proportions.  It 
would  perhaps  be  difficult  to  say  whether  the  ima- 
gination or  the  reasoning  faculty  constituted  the 
predominating  feature  of  his  mind  ;  for  he  was  one 
of  the  rare  instances  of  pre-eminence  in  both.  He. 
seemed  equally  at  home  in  the  heights  and  in  the 
depths  :  if  his  mind  was  prolific  of  the  most  mag- 
nificent and  burning  conceptions,  it  was  also  capa- 
ble of  pushing  the  most  abstract  subject  of  inquiry 
to  the  farthest  limit  of  human  investigation.  But 
while  his  imagination  soared  high,  and  his  reason- 
ing faculty  penetrated  far,  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other  was  particularly  rapid  in  its  operations.  The 
movements  of  his  mind  all  partook  more  of  the  ma- 
jesty of  the  thunder-storm  than  the  impetuosity  of 
the  whirlwind. 

His  intellectual  habits  were  substantially  those  of 
every  thoroughly  disciplined  mind.  He  had  no 
time  to  devote  to  useless  employments,  and  his  fa- 
culties never  became  rusty  from  inaction.     A  do- 


AND    INFLUENCE.  249 

mestic  in  his  family  testifies  that  she  never  entered 
his  room  without  finding  him  engaged  in  writing, 
reading,  or  prayer.  He  was  also  in  all  things,  the 
smallest  as  well  as  the  greatest,  remarkably  atten- 
tive to  system ;  and  he  was  never  satisfied  unless 
every  thing  around  him  occupied  its  appropriate 
place,  and  every  thing  devolving  upon  him  was 
done  at  the  proper  time.  And  to  these  qualities 
may  be  added  a  spirit  of  uncommon  perseverance; 
a  fixed  purpose  to  do  well  whatever  he  undertook ; 
to  get  to  the  bottom  of  every  subject  which  he  at- 
tempted to  investigate.  During  the  last  year  of  his 
life  he  copied  out  a  little  book  of  hymns,  as  cor- 
rectly as  if  they  had  been  designed  for  the  press ; 
and  within  a  sabbath  or  two  previous  to  his  death,  as 
he  was  reading  some  missionary  journal,  he  request- 
ed his  daughter  to  hand  him  his  atlas  that  he  might 
find  certain  places  mentioned  in  it,  and  he  bent  over 
the  map  with  untiring  interest  until  he  had  traced 
the  whole  course. 

Dr.  Griffin's  dispositions  and  feelings  were  so 
far  moulded  by  the  influence  of  religion,  that  it 
was  not  easy  always  to  distinguish  between  the 
man  and  the  christian ; — between  the  elements  of 
nature  and  the  graces  of  the  Spirit.  There  was, 
however,  a  tenderness  and  generosity  and  magna- 
nimity about  him,  which  every  one  felt  to  be  in- 
stinctive. He  was  also  naturally  of  a  social  turn, 
and  accommodated  himself  with  great  felicity  to 
persons  of  different  ages  and  capacities.  In  al- 
most every  circle  into  which  he  was  thrown,  he 
was  sure  to  lead  the  conversation  ;  and  yet  not  in 

Vol.  1.  32 


250  HIS    CHARACTER 

a  way  that  seemed  officious  or  obtrusive,  but  be- 
cause he  was  put  forward  by  the  united  consent  of 
those  who  feh  his  superiority. 

It  would  appear  from  the  journal  that  he  kept  of 
his  private  religious  exercises,  that  the  leading  ele- 
ment of  his  christian  character  was  a  deep  sense  of 
his  own  corruptions  and  of  his  entire  dependance 
on  the  sovereign  grace  of  God  in  Christ;  and 
hence  he  was  always  peculiarly  jealous  for  the  di- 
vine glory : — always  ready  to  buckle  on  his  armor 
for  conflict  when  he  saw  any  movements  in  the  theo- 
logical world,  which  looked  hostile  to  the  sove- 
reignty  of  God  or  the  dignity  of  his  Son.  In  the 
early  part  of  his  christian  course,  his  mind  seems 
to  have  been  occupied  more  with  the  severer  truths 
of  God's  word,  especially  the  nature  and  obliga- 
tions of  his  law ;  but  in  his  later  days  he  was  much 
more  disposed  to  dwell  upon  the  grace  and  glory  of 
the  gospel — the  fulness  of  its  provisions  and  the 
freeness  of  its  ofters ;  and  hence  his  piety,  as  he 
advanced  toward  the  end  of  his  course,  became  in- 
creasingly cheerful  and  attractive.  Those  who  had 
the  opportunity  of  enjoying  his  society  in  the  last 
months  of  his  life,  felt  that  his  eye  was  turned  di- 
rectly and  habitually  upon  the  sun  of  Righteous- 
ness ;  and  that  every  desire  of  his  heart  was  swal- 
lowed up  in  this — that  God's  will  might  be  done, 
and  God's  name  glorified. 

Doctor  Griffin  was  remarkable  for  his  strict  ad- 
herence to  truth.  He  had  no  sympathy  with  those 
lax  notions  on  this  subject  which  have  been  so  la- 
mentably common  in  these  later  years,  among  many 


AND    INFLUENCE.  251 

professed  christians,  not  to  say  ministers  of  the 
gospel — especially  the  notion  that  it  is  lawful  to 
practise  some  degree  of  deception  in  religious  mat- 
ters, for  the  sake  of  gaining  what  is  supposed  to  be 
an  important  end :  on  the  contrary,  he  allowed  not 
himself  either  by  his  words  or  his  actions,  either 
in  respect  to  religion  or  any  thing  else,  intention- 
ally to  leave  an  impression  upon  any  mind  that  was 
at  variance  with  his  honest  convictions.  "  I  well 
remember,"  says  his  daughter,  "  his  early  attempts 
to  fix  my  confidence  in  his  word ; — a  confidence 
which  he  never  forfeited.  He  would  place  me  on 
a  high  mantle  piece,  and  then  removing  himself  a 
short  distance  direct  me  to  throw  myself  into  his 
arms,  assuring  me  that  it  was  safe,  and  that  he 
would  take  me  down  in  no  other  way.  I  would 
sit  for  a  long  time,  pleading,  trembling,  perhaps 
weeping,  till  finding  him  inflexible,  I  was  forced  to 
make  the  dreaded  leap,  and  test  the  truth  of  his 
promise.  In  after  life  it  was  his  frequent  and  fear- 
less appeal,  '  Did  your  father  ever  deceive  you  ?' 
In  his  diary  he  mentions  assuming  a  smile  at  the 
side  of  Ellen's  sick  bed,  in  order  to  conceal  from 
her  my  danger,  and  then  adds,  '  and  for  the  first 
and  only  time  deceived  my  child.'  " 

Another  peculiarly  amiable  feature  in  his  charac- 
ter, was  his  freedom  from  censoriousness.  The  law 
of  kindness  was  upon  his  lips;  and  though  he 
was  often  engaged  in  controversy,  and  felt  himself 
called  in  obedience  to  his  strong  convictions  of 
duty,  to  expose  what  he  deemed  the  errors  of  others 
either  in  doctrine  or  practice,  yet  he  was  uniform- 


25'2  HIS    CHARACTER 

ly  courteous  toward  his  opponents.  The  maxim 
which  regulated  his  conduct  as  a  controvertist  was, 
"  Crush  heresy,  but  spare  the  heretic." 

Intimately  connected  with  the  preceding,  was 
another  quality  which,  to  those  who  knew  him  best, 
constituted  one  of  the  brightest  attractions  of  his 
character— viz.  a  meek  and  forgiviJig  spirit.  Few 
men  have  suffered  more  than  he,  either  from  the 
detraction  and  virulence  of  enemies,  or  the  mis- 
taken impressions  of  friends  ;  and  few,  it  is  believed, 
in  similar  circumstances,  have  evinced  so  much  of 
christian  forbearance  and  magnanimity.  Doctor 
Spring,  who  had  known  him  long  and  intimately, 
says,  in  the  sermon  preached  at  his  funeral,  "I 
have  known  him  a  greatly  injured  man,  but  I  have 
never  known  him  cherish  a  retaliating  or  revenge- 
ful disposition.  I  have  seen  him  weep  under  inju- 
ries, but  I  never  heard  him  utter  an  angry  sentence 
against  those  who  reviled  him.  There  was  a  kind- 
ness, a  generosity,  a  nobleness  of  heart  about  him, 
which  his  enemies  never  knew  how  to  appreciate." 
If  any  further  evidence  were  needed  of  his  possess- 
ing in  a  high  degree  this  attribute  of  christian  cha- 
racter, it  is  furnished  by  the  following  record — 
equally  touching  and  sublime — which  he  made  in 
his  diary,  relative  to  certain  slanderous  reports 
which  had  been  put  in  circulation  concerning  him. 

"At  this  period  the  greatest  trial  of  my  life  commenced 
through  the  luikindness  of  friends  whom  I  had  never  injured. 
Through  misrepresentations  and  misapprehensions  I  was  ac- 
cused of  things  of  which  I  was  perfectly  innocent.  In  that 
time  of  trial  1  was  determined  not  to  say  a  wrong  thing,  or  do 


AND    INFLUENCE.  253 

a  wrong  action,  to  save  my  character  or  life.  I  never  saw  be- 
fore how  Uttle  love  I  had,  how  hard  it  was  to  love  a  mere  neigh- 
bor, an  enemy  as  myself,  and  never  before  saw  the  miracle 
which  was  exhibited  in  the  pretorium  and  on  the  cross.  I  felt 
a  spirit  of  forbearance  and  kindness  which  I  scarcely  thought 
possible ;  and  when  another  spirit  arose,  my  remedy  was  to 
go  to  my  knees,  and  pray  for  my  persecutors  until  1  could  for- 
give them." 

As  the  interests  of  Christ's  kingdom  lay  specially 
near  his  heart,  he  was  always  ready  not  only  to 
urge  upon  others  the  duty  of  consecrating  their  pro- 
perty to  its  advancement,  but  to  do  this  himself  ac- 
cording to  his  ability.  He  was  never  rich ;  but  out 
of  the  competence  which  he  possessed,  he  contri- 
buted more  or  less  to  most  of  the  great  benevolent 
objects  of  the  day.  The  generous  donation  which 
he  made  to  the  college,  and  with  which  he  com- 
menced the  effort  that  resulted  in  its  extended 
means  and  increased  prosperity,  has  been  noticed 
in  a  preceding  chapter.  During  his  residence  at 
Williamstown,  he  had,  on  a  certain  occasion,  sub- 
scribed a  hundred  dollars  to  assist  a  feeble  congre- 
gation in  the  neighborhood  in  building  a  church. 
As  the  time  for  payment  drew  near,  he  found  it  dif- 
ficult to  command  the  necessary  means  for  meeting 
it.  About  that  time  he  journeyed  eastward  in  be- 
half of  the  college,  with  an  intention  to  spend  one 
sabbath  with  his  friends  in  Boston.  But  on  his  ar- 
rival there,  he  met  a  clergyman  who  urged  his  pass- 
ing that  sabbath  with  him ;  and  added,  "  My  wife 
says.  If  Dr.  G.  will  come  and  preach  for  us,  I  will 
give  him  fifty  dollars."  The  Doctor  understanding 
this  to  be  intended  for  the  college,  relinquished  his 


254  HIS    CHARACTER 

purpose  of  remaining  in  Boston,  and  accepted  the 
invitation.  When  his  plate  was  removed  from  the 
breakfast  table  Monday  morning,  he  found  a  hun- 
dred dollar  note  lying  before  him,  with  a  request 
that  he  would  accept  it  as  his  own.  This  sum, 
with  his  accustomed  promptness,  he  appropriated  to 
the  payment  of  his  subscription.  The  circumstance 
he  was  accustomed  to  reckon  among  the  peculiar 
providences  of  God  toward  him. 

And  this  suggests  another  striking  feature  of  his 
character,  viz.  his  habitual  recognition  of  a  divine 
providence,  and  his  confidence  in  God  under  all  cir- 
cumstances. He  was  fond  of  repeating  the  maxim 
of  the  blind  Mr.  Prince,  "  He  that  will  observe 
the  providence  of  God  shall  never  want  for  matter 
of  observation."  His  calculations  for  the  future 
seemed  always  to  be  made  in  the  spirit  of  the  Apos- 
tle's exhortation,  "  If  the  Lord  will,  we  shall  live 
and  do  this  or  that."  A  striking  instance  of  his  con- 
fidence in  God  for  the  success  of  his  labors,  occur- 
red at  a  meeting  of  ministers  shortly  after  his  re- 
moval to  Boston.  The  conversation  having  turned 
upon  the  peculiarly  difficult  and  responsible  station 
in  which  he  had  been  placed,  Dr.  Samuel  Spring 
turned  to  him  and  said,  "  Dr.  G.  you  seem  like  a 
man  placed  upright  upon  the  point  of  a  steeple  with 
nothing  to  hold  by — now  how  will  you  stand  ?" 
"  You  mistake,"  said  Dr.  G.  "  I  have  God  to  hold 
by." 

As  he  felt  deeply  his  dependance  on  God,  his 
life,  especially  the  latter  part  of  it,  seems  to  have 
been  eminently  a  life  of  prayer.     For  a  considera- 


AND    INFLUENCE.  255 

ble  period  previous  to  his  death,  no  small  part  of 
his  waking  hours  was  spent  in  private  devotion. 
The  following  touching  circumstance,  as  related  by 
his  daughter,  shows  how  closely  he  had  interwoven 
this  duty  with  the  economy  of  every  day :  "  On 
one  of  his  last  sabbaths,"  she  says,  "  when  his  de- 
bility had  produced  a  drowsiness  hard  to  be  over- 
come, about  noon  he  suddenly  raised  himself  and 
said,  'I  have  not  prayed  since  morning,  I  have 
been  so  sleepy.  I  wish  you  would  lead  me  into  the 
next  room '  (where  there  was  no  fire)  '  that  I  may 
wake  up  to  pray.'  I  accordingly  led  him  to  the 
sofa,  and  wrapped  a  cloak  about  him  and  left  him 
alone.  Here  as  he  sat  for  nearly  an  hour,  I  heard 
his  voice  from  time  to  time  raised  in  supplication. 
He  then  asked  for  his  Form  of  Self-examination, 
and  remained  some  time  longer  engaged  in  reading 
it  over." 

In  glancing  at  Dr.  G's  public  character,  it  is  na- 
tural first  to  contemplate  him  where  he  was  per- 
haps more  in  his  element  than  any  where  else — in 
the  pulpit.  As  a  preacher  it  may  safely  be  said  that 
few  of  any  age  have  reached  so  commanding  an 
eminence.  Some  of  our  transatlantic  brethren, 
who  have  listened  to  him,  and  who  were  familiar 
with  the  best  specimens  of  the  eloquence  of  the 
pulpit  in  Great  Britain,  have  unhesitatingly  express- 
ed their  conviction  that  Dr.  G.  was  not  exceeded, 
either  in  matter  or  manner,  by  the  best  British 
preachers  they  had  ever  heard.  In  the  selection  of 
his  subjects  he  evidently  kept  in  view,  in  an  unu- 
sual degree,  the  only  legitimate  end  of  preaching — 


256  HIS    CHARACTER 

the  sanctification  and  salvation  of  men ;  and  hence 
he  never  degraded  the  pulpit  by  the  introduction  of 
topics  which  might  gratify  a  mere  intellectual  taste, 
but  which  could  never  find  their  way  to  the  con- 
science or  the  heart.  His  sermons  were  eminently 
rich  in  divine  truth ;  those  truths  which  humble  man 
and  exalt  God  ;  and  no  man  who  listened  to  him  at- 
tentively had  ever  any  just  reason  to  complain  that 
he  had  nothing  to  carry  away.  Though  he  was  an 
acute  metaphysician,  yet  he  rarely  introduced  me- 
taphysical discussions  into  the  pulpit ;  and  when- 
ever he  did,  it  was  rather  with  a  view  to  repel  the 
assaults  of  the  enemies  of  truth  with  their  own  wea- 
pons, than  to  borrow  light  from  reason  for  the  esta- 
blishment of  scripture  doctrine.  He  reasoned  in- 
deed, and  reasoned  with  great  power ;  but  his  ar- 
guments were  based  on  scripture  and  common  sense, 
and  were  ordinarily  within  the  comprehension  of 
any  class  of  his  hearers.  And  as  he  administered 
to  the  intellect  its  appropriate  aliment,  he  knew  how 
to  address  himself  with  equal  power  to  the  feehngs; 
and  it  was  difficult  to  say  which  was  most  to  be  ad- 
mired, the  cogency  of  his  reasoning,  the  grandeur 
of  his  conceptions,  or  the  tenderness  of  his  appeals. 
Now  he  came  down  upon  the  sinner's  conscience 
with  the  weight  of  a  mountain,  and  again,  by  a 
wonderful  effort  of  imagination,  he  seemed  to  raise 
the  christian  to  the  very  gate  of  heaven,  and  hold 
him  there  till  he  became  well  nigh  entranced  with 
its  glories.  His  manner  was  emphatically  his  own ; 
and  though  a  faint  resemblance  of  it  has  been  sha- 
dowed forth  in  a  considerable  number  of  our  preach- 


AND    INFLUENCE.  257 

ers,  yet  the  best  effort  at  imitation  does  nothing 
more  than  painfully  remind  us  of  the  magnificent 
original.  In  more  senses  than  one  he  might  be 
called  the  giant  of  the  pulpit.  His  stately  and  no- 
ble form,  his  erect  and  dignified  attitude,  would  en- 
chain a  congregation  of  strangers  before  he  opened 
his  lips.  And  then  his  voice  was  in  good  keeping 
with  his  person :  it  could  express  the  softest  and 
gentlest  emotions  with  inimitable  effect,  while  it 
could  swell  into  the  majesty  of  the  thunder  or 
break  upon  you  in  the  fury  of  the  tempest.  His 
sermons  for  the  pulpit  were  always  written,  and 
with  very  few  exceptions  always  read ;  but  his  style 
was  so  adapted  to  his  manner,  and  his  reading  so 
admirably  perfect,  that  even  the  most  bigotted  op- 
posers  of  reading  in  the  pulpit  were  constrained  to 
acknowledge  that  this  mode  of  preaching  answered 
very  well  for  him.  His  gestures,  like  every  thing 
else  that  pertained  to  his  manner,  were  bold  and 
striking ;  and  when  he  was  excited,  as  he  almost 
always  was  in  some  part  of  his  sermon,  they  suc- 
ceeded each  other  with  great  rapidity.  In  his  ordi- 
nary preaching,  there  is  said  to  have  been  very  con- 
siderable inequality ;  though  even  his  most  mode- 
rate sermons  had  something  to  identify  them  as  his 
own,  and  bore  more  or  less  of  the  impress  of  his 
noble  mind.  In  his  more  public  and  extraordinary 
efforts,  for  which  he  always  took  ample  time  to  pre- 
pare, he  rarely  if  ever  failed ;  and  on  some  of  these 
occasions  he  rose  to  the  very  highest  pitch  of  elo- 
quence. His  sermon  on  "  the  art  of  preaching," 
delivered  before  the  Pastoral  Association  of  Mas- 

Yol.  T.  33 


258  HIS    CHARACTER 

sachusetts,  is  perhaps  the  very  best  thing  extant 
on  that  subject ;  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a 
man  who  combined  in  a  higher  degree  than  Dr. 
Griffin  himself  the  qualities  which  he  has  there 
so  admirably  described  as  essential  to  perfection 
in  preaching. 

In  his  pastoral  and  private  religious  intercourse 
Doctor  G.  exhibited  all  the  tenderness  of  his  heart. 
He  attached  great  importance  to  visiting  from  house 
to  house,  not  only  for  the  general  purpose  of  reh- 
gious  intercourse  with  his  people,  but  that  he  might 
learn  from  the  state  of  his  congregation  what  he 
ought  to  preach  on  the  one  hand,  and  what  effect 
his  preaching  had  produced  on  the  other.  The  fol- 
lowing circumstance  furnishes  a  beautiful  example 
of  the  tenderness  of  his  spirit  in  his  intercourse 
with  the  careless  and  ungodly.  A  Jew  who  now 
professes  to  be  a  christian,  called  upon  him  in  com- 
pany with  a  clergyman.  In  the  course  of  the  in- 
terview. Dr.  G.  turning  to  his  clerical  brother,  in- 
quired, "  What  are  our  young  friend's  views  on  the 
subject  of  religion?"  He  could  not  tell.  The 
Doctor  instantly  took  the  hand  of  the  Jew,  and 
threw  his  arm  around  him,  and  exclaimed,  "  I  love 
the  Jews — Oh,  you  must  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

But  it  was  in  revivals  of  religion  especially  that  Dr. 
G.  appeared  with  surpassing  advantage ;  and  in  con- 
nexion with  these  perhaps  he  has  rendered  his  most 
important  services  to  the  church.  The  history  of  his 
life  seems  little  less  than  the  history  of  one  unbro- 
ken revival;  and  it  would  perhaps  be  difficult  to 
name  the  individual  in  our  country  since  the  days 


AND    INFLUENCE.  259 

of  Whitefield,  who  has  been  instrumental  of  an 
equal  number  of  hopeful  conversions.  But  while 
he  possessed  in  so  high  a  degree  the  spirit  of  revi- 
vals, he  had  no  communion  with  the  spirit  of  fana- 
ticism ;  and  when  he  saw  a  community  at  the  very 
highest  point  of  religious  excitement,  he  still  in- 
sisted that  every  thing  should  be  done  decently  and 
in  order.  No  man  deplored  more  deeply  than  he 
the  erratic  and  extravagant  measures  by  which  so 
many  of  our  more  modern  revivals  have  been 
marked ;  and  no  one  labored  more  zealously  than 
he  to  purify  those  scenes  in  which  he  so  much  de- 
lighted of  every  unhallowed  admixture,  and  to  bring 
back  the  scriptural  simplicity  and  order  of  other 
and  better  days. 

The  following  extract  of  a  letter  from  a  distin- 
guished clergyman  of  the  Presbyterian  church,  who 
was  a  pupil  of  Dr.  G's  at  Williamstown,  will  not 
only  serve  to  show  what  he  was  in  revivals,  but  to 
illustrate  some  striking  traits  of  his  character. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1824,  if  I  remember  rightly,  there 
were  glowing  appearances  of  a  most  extensive  revival.  The 
college  and  the  town  were  greatly  shaken.  Dr.  G.  was  all 
fervor  and  zeal.  The  excitement  continued  four  or  five  weeks. 
A  few  individuals  seemed  converted.  A  wicked  fellow,  by  the 
name  of  R ,  began  to  exhort  us  with  great  power  and  ef- 
fect. But  the  excitement  subsided  as  suddenly  as  it  sprang 
up.  And  after  all  feeling  had  passed  over,  there  was  but  one 
in  town  or  college  that  gave  evidence  of  true  conversion  ;  and 
that  was  William  Hervey,  whose  bones  repose  in  India,  where 
he  went  as  a  missionary  under  the  American  Board.     He  was 

one  of  the  best  men  I  ever  knew.     In  a  few  weeks  R 

was  found  drunk.    In  reference  to  all  this  matter,  I  heard  Dr. 


260  HIS    CHARACTER 

G.  say  afterwards,  "  To  save  one  immortal  soul  the  Lord  will 
shake  a  whole  church,  a  whole  town,  and  if  nothing  less  will 
save  it,  he  will  sliake  a  whole  continent."  And  to  illustrate 
this  position,  he  would  narrate,  with  melting  pathos,  the  story 
of  Hervey's  conversion. 

If  I  recollect  dates  aright,  in  the  spring  of  1825  there  w^as 
a  truly  powerful  and  genuine  revival  in  town  and  college.  In 
this  work  Dr.  G.  was  the  prime  instrument.  Some  of  the 
most  touching  moral  scenes  that  I  ever  saw  or  heard  of  occur- 
red during  its  progress,  Guilty  of  the  sin  of  David,  we  num- 
bered the  converted  and  the  unconverted.  The  report  went 
out  one  morning,  and  reached  Dr.  G.  that  all  college  was 
converted  but  eighteen.  There  wa^  to  be  a  prayer  meeting 
that  night,  and  he  sent  over  w^ord  that  he  would  meet  with  us. 
Although  the  evening  was  dark  and  stormy,  and  the  ground 
exceedingly  muddy,  there  was  not  probably  a  student  of 
college  absent  from  the  meeting.  We  waited  in  breathless  si- 
lence for  the  Doctor.  He  came,  and  the  lecture  room  was  so 
crowded  that  he  stood  in  the  door,  whilst  giving  his  hat  to  one, 
and  his  cloak  and  lantern  to  others.  He  stood  for  a  moment 
gazing  through  his  tears  on  the  crowd  before  him.  Then 
clasping  his  hands  and  lifting  up  his  face  to  heaven,  he  utter- 
ed in  the  most  moving  accents  these  words — "  Or  those  eigh- 
teen upon  whom  the  tower  in  Siloam  fell,  think  ye  that  they 
were  sinners  above  all  men  that  dwelt  in  Jerusalem  ?"  The 
effect  was  overpowering.  For  minutes  he  could  not  utter  ano- 
ther word,  and  the  room  was  filled  with  weeping.  It  was  one 
of  those  inimitable  touches  which  he  could  occasionally  give 
beyond  all  men  that  I  have  ever  known.  I  narrated  the  in- 
cident to  him  a  few  weeks  previous  to  his  death.  He  wept 
aloud  on  its  recital ;  but  had  forgotten  all  about  it. 

Another  of  these  touches  he  gave  at  the  last  service  but  one 
that  I  heard  him  perform.  It  was  at  the  funeral  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  G.  of  this  town.  After  a  solemn  service  he  offered  the 
concluding  prayer,  which  he  commenced  thus — "  O  Lord,  we 
thank  thee  that  good  men  may  die."     Being  uttered,  as  it 


AND    INFLUENCE.  261 

was,  in  his  peculiar  manner,  it  deeply  impressed  and  affected 
every  mind. 

During  revivals  his  sermons  were  nothing  in  comparison 
with  his  talks  and  lectures.  I  have  heard  him  preach  great 
sermons,  but  the  most  eloquent  and  glowing  thoughts  that  I 
ever  heard  from  mortal  lips,  were  from  him  in  the  school- 
houses  at  Williamstown. 

In  my  repeated  interviews  with  him  previous  to  his  death, 
I  found  nothing  to  interest  him  so  much  as  little  incidents  in 
reference  to  revivals  in  college,  and  intelligence  in  respect  to 
the  usefulness  of  students  who  had  been  converted  under  him. 
He  seemed  to  feel  as  if  he  had  been  multiplying  him.self  in 
every  student  converted  through  his  instrumentality.  In  my 
last  interview  with  him,  I  told  him  the  story  of  the  conversion 
in  1825,  of  a  Mr.  H.  now  a  highly  useful  minister,  but  then 
a  profane  and  worthless  profligate.  The  Doctor  was  in  the 
habit  of  frequently  closing  his  sermons  with  "Hallelujah, 
Amen,"  and  always  repeated  the  words  in  a  peculiarly  varied 
and  musical  tone.     His  tones  were  caught  and  repeated  with 

laughable  accuracy  by  H .     Just  at  the  commencement 

of  the  revival  he  was  often  heard  repeating  these  words,  and 
with  great  force  and  wit  and  sarcasm,  exhorting  his  fellow 
students  to  get  converted  ;  swearing  that  he  himself  would  get 
converted  the  very  first  one.  And  as  God  would  have  it,  he 
was  converted  the  very  first  one.  He  was  seen  on  a  fast  day 
morning  coming  into  the  prayer  meeting,  as  we  all  thought, 
to  make  sport.  But  before  the  meeting  ended  he  arose,  and 
such  an  appeal  to  the  students  as  he  made,  and  such  an  effect 
as  it  produced,  I  never  witnessed.  And  to  the  close  of  the  re- 
vival he  was  as  useful  as  any  among  us.  The  story  affected 
the  Doctor  to  such  a  degree  that  for  a  time  he  was  entirely 
overcome. 

It  has  already  been  intimated  that  Doctor  G.'s 
heart  was  much  in  the  great  cause  of  christian  be- 
nevolence, and  that  his  hand  was  ever  open  to  con- 


262 


HIS    CHARACTER 


tribute  to  its  advancement  according  to  his  ability. 
But  much  of  what  he  did  on  this  subject,  belongs 
rather  to  his  public  than  his  private  character.  The 
spirit  of  missions  is  intimately  allied  to  the  spirit  of 
revivals ;  and  if  he  caught  the  latter  at  a  very  ear- 
ly period  and  in  a  very  high  degree,  he  vras  not  less 
eminently  imbued  with  the  former.  In  the  forma- 
tion of  most  of  those  great  national  institutions 
which  for  years  have  been  radiating  points  of  be- 
nign and  illuminating  influence  to  the  world,  he  was 
active ;  his  eloquent  voice  has  often  been  lifted  up 
in  the  most  overwhelming  appeals  on  their  behalf; 
and  there  are  multitudes  with  whom  the  impression 
that  he  produced  on  these  occasions  still  remains  al- 
most as  vivid,  as  if  it  were  of  yesterday.  The  Ame- 
rican Board  of  Foreign  Missions  with  which  he  had 
been  identified  from  the  beginning,  and  in  the  for- 
mation of  which  he  exerted  an  important  influence, 
continued  always  the  special  object  of  his  deep  and 
earnest  regard.  At  the  last  meeting  of  this  Board 
which  occurred  at  Newark  a  few  days  before  his 
death,  he  was  present,  though  in  a  greatly  enfeebled 
state,  and  took  part  in  its  deliberations,  and  even 
made  a  public  address,  which  is  said  to  have  been 
one  of  his  most  delightful  and  impressive  eflbrts. 
It  was  the  voice  of  an  aged  pilgrim  on  the  verge  of 
heaven,  pleading  for  the  salvation  of  a  world  from 
which  his  spirit  was  in  a  few  days  to  take  its  final 
flight. 

If  there  was  any  one  department  of  christian  be- 
nevolence in  which  Doctor  G.  took  a  deeper  inte- 
rest than  in  any  other,  perhaps  it  was  the  education 


AND    INFLUENCE.  263 

of  young  men  for  the  sacred  office.  He  saw  early 
and  clearly  that  this  was  vital  in  any  system  of  in- 
strumentalities which  should  be  introduced  for  evan- 
gelizing the  world ;  and  upon  this  he  seems  to  have 
had  an  anxious  eye  at  least  from  the  period  of  his 
introduction  into  the  ministry.  In  a  letter  to  the 
Rev.  Calvin  Durfy,  then  of  Hunter,  Greene  coun- 
ty, New- York,  dated  March  4, 1828,  he  writes  thus : 
"  I  was  glad  to  hear  of  the  blessing  of  God  upon 
your  labors,  and  of  the  prospect  of  your  settlement 
in  that  part  of  the  country.  May  you  be  used  as 
an  instrument  of  great  good  to  Zion.  I  hope  you 
will  be  able  to  send  some  of  those  young  men  whom 
God  is  sanctifying,  to  assist  our  prayers  here,  to 
take  your  place  within  these  halls,  and  to  prepare 
here  for  the  future  service  of  the  church.  Will 
you  not  keep  your  eye  steadily  fixed  on  this  object  ? 
I  used  to  think  at  your  age  that  if  I  could  bring  for- 
ward one  young  man  who  would  make  a  better  mi- 
nister than  myself,  in  that  single  act  I  should  do 
more  good  than  in  all  my  life  beside."  In  accor- 
dance with  the  sentiments  here  expressed,  he  had 
always  a  watchful  eye  and  a  helping  hand  in  rela- 
tion to  this  subject;  and  there  are  not  a  small  num- 
ber now  usefully  engaged  in  the  ministry,  who,  but 
for  his  paternal  counsel  and  aid,  would  have  been 
devoted  to  this  day  to  some  secular  occupation. 

Doctor  Griffin  was  in  no  small  degree  distin- 
guished as  a  teacher  of  youth,  especially  in  the  de- 
partment of  rhetoric  and  oratory ;  and  hence  those 
who  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  his  instructions  at 
Andover,  are  so  often  heard  to  speak  of  him  in  this 


264  HIS    CHARACTER 

respect,  in  terms  of  unqualified  admiration.  His 
powers  of  criticism  were  well  nigh  unrivalled.  A 
piece  of  composition  which  to  an  ordinary  eye 
might  seem  to  be  tolerably  free  from  defects  he 
would  take,  and  in  reading  it  over  a  single  time 
would  reveal  errors  enough,  even  to  the  author's 
own  eye,  at  least  to  furnish  an  antidote  against  any 
over- weening  pretensions.  To  a  friend  who  re- 
quested him  to  criticise  a  sermon,  he  said,  "  Yes,  I 
will  do  it;  but  you  ought  to  know  tha't  I  am  a  bloody 
man  in  these  matters ;"  and  then  proceeded  in  his 
criticism,  verifying  his  declaration  by  drawing  blood 
at  every  stroke.  Those  only  who  have  enjoyed  the 
benefit  of  his  instructions,  can  form  an  adequate 
idea  how  much  he  was  above  ordinary  teachers, 
especially  in  every  thing  belonging  to  the  depart- 
ment of  criticism. 

Notwithstanding  he  presided  over  the  college 
with  great  dignity,  and  was  particularly  successful 
in  keeping  up  those  various  forms  on  which  the  or- 
der of  such  an  institution  so  materially  depends, 
yet,  after  all,  his  power  of  managing  youth  is  said 
to  have  been  less  than  his  power  of  communicating 
instruction;  owing  to  a  natural  quickness  of  feeling 
which  sometimes  temporarily  prevailed  over  the  dic- 
tates of  his  judgment.  But  ordinarily  he  manifest- 
ed much  of  a  fraternal  spirit  toward  his  pupils,  and 
he  was  especially  alive  to  every  thing  in  which  their 
religious  interests  were  involved.  One  of  them 
gives  the  following  interesting  account  of  his  first 
interview  with  him: — "I  was  first  introduced  to 
him  by  letter  in  the  fall  of  1822,  when  I  went  to 


AND    INFLUENCE.  265 

Williamstown  to  enter  the  Freshman  class.  The 
first  sight  of  his  gigantic  frame  overawed  me.  In 
a  moment  he  placed  the  timorous  boy  at  his  ease. 
After  reading  my  letter,  he  rose  and  came  to  the 
corner  of  the  room  where  I  was  sitting,  and  laying 
his  hand  on  my  head,  said,  '  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
here ;  you  must  be  my  son,  and  I  will  be  your  fa- 
ther, and  you  must  inform  me  of  any  thing  that 
you  need  or  wish.'  He  acted  to  me  the  part  of  a 
kind  father,  in  every  respect,  as  long  as  he  lived." 

As  a  theological  writer  Doctor  Griffin  is  no 
doubt  destined  to  occupy  a  place  among  the  first  of 
the  period  in  which  he  lived.  His  treatises  on  the 
atonement  and  on  Divine  efficiency  are  both  monu- 
ments of  great  intellectual  labor,  and  could  never 
have  been  produced  but  by  a  powerful  and  tho- 
roughly disciplined  mind ;  but  it  was,  after  all,  in 
the  composition  of  sermons  that  his  pre-eminence 
as  a  writer  especially  consisted.  His  Park-street 
Lectures  is  perhaps  the  work  on  which  his  reputa- 
tion hitherto  has  depended  more  than  upon  any 
other ;  though  there  are  several  of  his  occasional 
sermons  which  are  not  at  all  inferior  to  the  best 
portions  of  that  volume.  It  is  an  invaluable  legacy 
to  posterity  that  he  has  left  in  the  sermons  which 
are  now  to  be  given  to  the  public ;  and  it  will  be 
gratifying,  not  only  to  his  friends  but  to  the  chris- 
tian community  at  large,  to  know  that  there  are  ser- 
mons enough  in  manuscript  still  remaining,  for  one 
or  two  additional  volumes,  all  of  which  have  been  re- 
written in  his  later  years,  and  have  undergone  his 
careful  and  finishing  touch. 

Vol.  I.  34 


266  HIS    CHARACTER 

It  may  probably  occur  to  some  readers  that  the 
view  which  has  here  been  presented  of  Doctor 
Griffin's  character  must  certainly  be  a  very  im- 
perfect one,  inasmuch  as  he  was  a  man,  and  yet 
nothing  has  been  said  of  his  infirmities  and  imper- 
fections. Of  course  it  is  not  intended  to  claim  for 
him  an  exemption  from  the  frailties  of  human  na- 
ture; but  whatever  defects  of  character  he  may 
have  had,  (and  where  is  the  man  who  is  free  from 
them?)  those  who  knew  him  need  not  be  told 
what  they  were,  and  those  who  did  not  know  him, 
would  be  little  likely  to  profit  by  the  information. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  if  the  record  of  his  private  expe- 
rience is  to  be  relied  on,  he  was  prone  to  any  thing 
rather  than  self-justification.  No  small  part  of  his 
life  seems  to  have  been  passed  in  mourning  over 
his  errors  and  corruptions ;  and  the  views  which  he 
has  recorded  of  his  own  character  before  God 
greatly  exceed  what  the  most  scrutinizing  caviller 
would  have  dared  to  utter  before  men. 

In  reviewing  the  life  of  Doctor  Griffin,  we  find 
occasion  to  acknowledge  the  divine  goodness,  not 
only  in  the  transcendant  powers  with  which  he  was 
endowed,  and  the  holy  impulse  which  these  powers 
received  from  the  influence  of  God's  Spirit,  but  in 
the  providential  arrangement  of  events  with  refe- 
rence to  their  most  advantageous  exercise.  He  be- 
gan his  career  at  a  period  of  unrivalled  interest ;  a 
period  when  great  events  were  the  order  of  the  day, 
and  the  spirit  of  missions  was  breaking  forth  in  one 
country,  and  the  spirit  of  revivals  in  another,  and  in 
a  third,  a  storm  of  atheistical  fanaticism,  that  made 


AND    INFLUENCE.  267 

the  very  foundations  of  society  rock.  He  quickly 
caught  the  spirit  of  the  new  era — a  spirit  for  rege- 
nerating the  world  ;  and  he  found  himself  at  home 
in  the  field  which  opened  around  him.  Had  he  lived 
at  an  earlier  period,  he  would  indeed  have  been  re- 
membered as  a  great  man,  and  perhaps  as  an  emi- 
nently devoted  minister  ;  and  yet  the  monuments  of 
his  pious  activity  might  have  been  comparatively 
few :  his  commanding  energies  might  have  been  ex- 
hausted in  prophesying  to  bones  upon  which  the 
breath  from  heaven  had  not  begun  to  fall,  even  to 
the  time  of  his  going  down  to  the  grave.  But  he 
came  upon  the  stage  at  the  very  time  when  the  pre- 
paration in  providence  seemed  to  have  been  com- 
pleted for  the  introduction  of  a  new  order  of  things : 
the  fields  where  white  around  him,  and  what  he  had 
to  do  was  to  take  his  sickle  and  go  forth  to  the  har- 
vest. It  is  worthy  of  remark  also,  that,  upon  his 
first  settlement  in  the  ministry,  he  was  thrown  into 
the  immediate  society  of  some  of  the  most  eminent- 
ly devoted  ministers  which  this  or  any  other  coun- 
try has  produced ;  such  as  Mills,  Hallock,  Gillet, 
&;c.  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  his  frequent  and  in- 
timate intercourse  with  these  venerated  men,  had 
an  important  bearing  upon  his  subsequent  character 
and  usefulness.  Nor  is  the  providence  of  God  less 
to  be  acknowledged  in  respect  to  the  different  pub- 
lic stations  which  he  occupied  ;— stations  for  which 
his  talents  and  acquisitions  admirably  fitted  him. 
His  first  settlement  was  indeed  in  a  comparatively 
obscure  place;  but  while  his  labors  there  were 
crowned  with  an  abundant  blessing,  the  retirement 


268  HIS    CHARACTER 

of  his  situation  was  favorable  to  increasing  his 
stock  of  ministerial  furniture,  and  thus  preparing 
him  the  better  for  the  more  public  field  which  he 
was  destined  to  occupy.  At  Newark  he  preached 
to  one  of  the  largest  and  most  important  congrega- 
tions in  the  United  States,  while  the  vicinity  of 
his  residence  to  the  city  of  New- York,  brought  him 
much  before  the  eye  of  that  metropolis,  and  great- 
ly increased  the  amount  of  his  general  influence. 
Though  his  sojourn  at  Andover  was  short,  yet  it 
was  of  great  importance,  not  only  on  account  of 
the  benefit  which  his  instructions  secured  to  his 
pupils,  but  on  account  of  the  character  which  his 
pre-eminent  talents  at  once  gave  to  the  infant  in- 
stitution. In  Park-street  he  accomplished  what  it 
may  safely  be  said  scarcely  any  other  man  could 
have  done.  Fearless  of  opposition,  and  relying 
on  Jehovah  his  Strength,  he  planted  the  standard 
of  evangelical  truth  there,  and  called  aloud  upon 
those  who  were  willing  to  appear  as  soldiers  of  the 
cross  to  rally  around  it.  Though  his  doctrines 
found  no  favor  with  the  multitude,  there  was  an  at- 
traction in  his  eloquence  which  it  was  not  easy  to 
resist ;  and  there  were  some  who  came  to  scoff*, 
and  others  who  came  to  admire,  that  went  away  to 
pray.  It  was  an  enterprise  of  fearful  hazard  and 
responsibility  which  he  undertook ; — an  enterprise 
that  drew  towards  him  the  anxious  eye  of  many  a 
friend  of  Zion,  and  that  drew  upon  him  the  bitte- 
rest obloquy  of  many  an  enemy  of  the  cross ;  and 
though,  in  its  progress,  he  seems  sometimes  to  have 
become  well-nigh  discouraged,  and  to  have  imagined 


AND    INFLUENCE.  269 

that  he  was  spending  his  strength  for  naught,  yet  he 
was  really  laying  broad  and  deep  the  foundation  of 
one  of  Zion's  noblest  watch  towers  ;  and  those  only 
who  remember  the  religious  state  of  the  metropolis 
of  New-England  previous  to  1809,  and  are  familiar 
with  it  now,  can  form  an  adequate  estimate  of  the 
importance  of  his  labors.  At  a  later  period  he  be- 
came president  of  Williams  college,  just  in  time  to 
save  it,  by  his  persevering  efforts,  from  extinction, 
and  to  raise  it  to  the  highly  respectable  standing 
which  it  now  holds  ;  and  here  for  fifteen  years  his 
ruling  religious  passion  had  full  scope  in  the  oppor- 
tunity he  enjoyed  of  endeavoring  to  bring  as  many 
as  possible  of  the  rising  generation  into  the  service 
of  Christ  and  his  church.  And  after  his  bodily 
energies  began  to  fail,  and  his  gigantic  frame  to 
totter,  there  was  a  moral  sublimity  in  that  provi- 
dence which  carried  him  back  to  die  on  the  spot 
which  was  most  endeared  to  him,  with  his  entire 
family  once  more  gathered  around  him,  and  in 
the  midst  of  a  community  to  a  large  part  of  which 
he  had  been  united  in  one  of  the  tenderest  relations. 
Here  he  passed  his  last  days,  with  the  simplicity 
and  dignity  of  a  patriarch ;  blessing  those  whom  he 
had  baptized,  and  administering  counsel,  consola- 
tion, warning,  to  those  around  him,  as  God  gave 
him  opportunity.  In  the  last  months  of  his  life  es- 
pecially, all  who  visited  him  were  deeply  impressed 
with  the  tenderness  and  the  heavenliness  of  his  spi- 
rit, and  felt  that  he  had  nearly  reached  the  gate  of 
that  world  where  the  everlasting  employment  is 
thanksgiving  and  praise.     And  the  same  gracious 


270  HIS   CHARACTER   AND   INFLUENCE. 

providence  that  gave  such  serenity  to  his  last  days, 
kept  him  tranquil  and  fearless  in  the  dark  valley. 
Jesus  and  his  salvation  were  the  burden  of  his 
thoughts,— the  theme  of  his  praises,  so  long  as  his 
tongue  could  move;  and  death  did  its  work  so 
gently,  that  when  the  breath  was  gone,  it  was  not 
easy  to  realize  that  he  had  been  in  the  hands  of 
an  enemy.  Thrice  honored  father,  while  we  che- 
rish thy  memory  and  embalm  thy  virtues,  we  will 
bless  the  God  of  nature  for  endowing  thee  with  such 
noble  powers,  and  the  God  of  grace  for  sanctifying 
and  directing  them,  and  the  God  of  providence  for 
placing  thee  in  a  field  where  thou  couldst  labor  so 
effectually  for  the  salvation  of  men  and  thy  Re- 
deemer's honor ! 


SERMONS 


SERMON  I. 


THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  GOD. 


Col,  I.  10. 


That  ye  might  walk  worthy  of  the  Lord  unto  all  pleasing,  being  fruitful 
of  every  good  work,  and  increasing  in  the  knowledge  of  God. — (Par- 
ticularly the  last  clause.) 

The  knowledge  of  God  lies  at  the  foundation  of 
all  true  religion.  It  is  the  want  or  indistinctness  of 
this  knowledge  that  occasions  all  the  stupidity  of 
sinners  and  all  the  false  hopes  of  professing  christi- 
ans; that  produces  most  of  the  religious  errors 
which  abound  in  the  world ;  that  causes  so  much 
superficial,  proud,  worldly  religion  even  among  the 
sincere,  and  so  little  religion  even  among  judicious 
christians.  Although  this  most  precious  of  all 
knowledge  is  open  to  all,  yet  there  is  very  little  of 
it  in  the  world, — very  little  of  it  in  the  church  of 
Christ.  There  is  so  much  unbelief  and  aversion  to 
God,  so  much  pride  and  worldliness,  so  much  guilt 
that  shrinks  from  clear  views  of  God,  so  much  slug- 

Vol.  I.  35 


274  THE    KNOWLEDGE    OP    GOD. 

gishness  which  binds  the  soul  to  earth,  that  the 
mass  even  of  christians  pass  to  the  grave  with  a 
very  incompetent  knowledge  of  God.  Even  their 
serious  thoughts  linger  too  much  on  earth.  Their 
religious  knowledge  and  conversation  are  too  con- 
fined to  subordinate  subjects ;  and  in  their  very 
prayers  their  eyes  are  apt  to  be  more  intensely  fix- 
ed on  the  blessings  they  ask  or  the  sins  they  de- 
plore, than  on  the  face  of  God  himself.  Now  and 
then  a  christian  arises  who  outstrips  the  piety  of  his 
contemporaries,  and  stands  a  luminary  to  enlighten 
and  to  be  admired  by  remote  generations.  If  you 
search  for  the  cause  of  his  pre-eminent  piety,  it  is 
to  be  found  in  his  superior  knowledge  of  God.  De- 
sirous to  see  a  greater  number  of  eminent  christi- 
ans formed,  and  to  witness  the  prevalence  of  that 
religion  which  is  enlightened,  judicious,  and  hum- 
ble; I  am  anxious  to  press  upon  my  hearers,  to 
press  upon  my  brethren  in  the  church,  to  press  up- 
on my  own  soul,  the  study  of  God.  The  know- 
ledge which  I  would  recommend,  though  it  includes 
the  speculation  of  the  understanding,  is  not  confin- 
ed to  it.  It  consists  in  a  clear  discernment  of 
God's  spiritual  glory  and  in  a  holy  intimacy  with 
him  ;  which  can  be  obtained  neither  by  a  specula- 
tive knowledge  without  right  affections,  nor  yet  by 
warm  affVjctions  without  deep  and  extensive  know- 
ledge. 

In  general  it  may  be  observed  that  the  great  end 
for  which  men  were  sent  into  the  world  was  to  learn 
the  character  of  their  Maker,  by  studying  his  glo- 
ries in  his  works  and  word,  that  they  might  obey 


THE   KNOWLEDGE    OF    GOD,  275 

and  enjoy  him.  The  great  end  which  God  had  in 
view  in  all  his  works  was  to  make  an  illustrious  dis- 
play of  his  perfections,  that  creatures  might  know 
him  and  be  united  to  him  in  sublime  and  everlast- 
ing communion.  All  things  which  are  proposed  as 
objects  of  our  belief  or  knowledge,  are  but  one 
complicated  lesson  of  God  which  we  were  sent  into 
the  world  to  learn.  The  vast  and  interesting  object 
on  which  his  divine  eye  is  immovably  fixed,  and 
which  in  the  progress  of  time  he  will  fully  attain,  is 
to  fill  the  world, — the  universe, — with  the  know- 
ledge of  his  glory.  He  declared  to  Moses,  "  As 
truly  as  I  live  all  the  earth  shall  be  filled  with  the 
glory  of  the  Lord."  The  harp  of  prophecy  awoke 
to  rapture  on  this  delightful  theme.  Isaiah  struck 
the  note,  and  Habakkuk  triumphantly  resounded, 
"  The  earth  shall  be  filled  with  the  knowledge  of 
the  glory  of  the  Lord  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea." 
The  object  of  the  whole  creation  will  not  be  lost ; 
creatures  shall  know  him.  The  end  for  which  hu- 
man beings  were  placed  on  this  earth  will  be  attained  : 
it  must  be  that  men  shall  know  their  God, — know 
him  in  a  far  greater  measure  than  they  have  done 
in  past  ages.  The  times  are  rolling  on, — the  light 
is  bursting  from  a  thousand  sources, — the  world 
will  be  flocking  to  the  great  display, — all  nations 
will  be  in  motion.  Arise  ye  and  join  them,  and 
hasten  to  the  knowledge  of  God.  Come,  for  it  is 
the  end  of  all  things,  and  it  is  the  end  of  your  crea- 
tion. 

Further,  God  is  the  being  with  whom  we  have 
the  most  intimate  and  interesting  connexion ;  and 


276  THE    KNOWLEDGE    OP   GOD. 

therefore  we  ought  certainly,  and  it  chiefly  con- 
cerns us,  to  become  acquainted  with  him.  He  is 
the  being  with  whom  we  chiefly  have  to  do  in  time 
and  eternity.  It  is  in  him  that  we  Uve  and  move 
and  have  our  being,  and  he  will  be  our  final  Judge. 
He  is  the  author  of  all  our  comforts  on  earth  ;  and 
he  will  be  to  eternity  either  the  author  and  object 
of  our  whole  enjoyment,  or  the  executioner  of  his 
wrath  upon  us.  Should  it  not  be  a  chief  desire  to 
get  acquainted  with  the  benefactor  who  has  sent  all 
our  comforts  to  us  for  so  many  years,  and  with  the 
fearful  Name  on  which  all  our  future  destinies  de- 
pend ?  Shall  a  man  be  anxious  to  see  the  generous 
stranger  who  once  relieved  his  wants,  or  the  rela- 
tion in  a  foreign  country  who  is  to  make  him  his 
heir  ?  and  shall  we  be  indifferent  to  an  acquaintance 
with  our  God  ? 

Further,  there  is  room  for  far  more  enlarged 
knowledge  of  God  than  any  of  us  have  yet  acquir- 
ed. In  the  recesses  of  his  nature  are  laid  up  trea- 
sures of  knowledge  which  eternal  research  will  not 
exhaust.  None  but  he  who  from  eternity  lay  in  his 
bosom  could  with  perfect  propriety  say,  I  know 
thee.  In  this  world  the  best  of  christians  see 
through  a  glass  darkly,  and  know  but  in  part  what 
they  were  destined  to  know.  Agur  found  reason 
in  his  humility  to  complain,  "I  neither  learned  wis- 
dom nor  have  the  knowledge  of  the  Holy."  The 
apostle  Paul,  after  having  spoken  of  the  primitive 
christians  as  knowing  God,  thought  proper  to  cor- 
rect the  expression  as  being  too  strong :  "  But  now 
after  that  ye  have  known  God,  or  rather  are  known 


THE   KNOWLEDGE    OF    GOD.  277 

of  God.''^  This  distinction  is  made  by  the  same 
apostle  in  another  place  :  "  If  any  man  think  that 
he  knoweth  any  thing,  he  knoweth  nothing  yet  as 
he  ought  to  know ;  but  if  any  man  love  God,  the 
same  is  known  of  him.''''  The  lowest  degree  of  per- 
fect knowledge  is  reserved  for  heaven :  "  For  now 
we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face  to  face ; 
now  I  know  in  part,  but  then  shall  I  know  even  as 
also  I  am  known."  Our  knowledge  of  God  will  at 
best  continue  imperfect  "till  we  all  come  in  the 
unity  of  the  faith  and  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Son 
of  God,  unto  a  perfect  man,  unto  the  measure  of 
the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ."  There  is 
therefore  abundant  room  for  the  most  enlightened 
christians  to  increase  in  the  knowledge  of  God,  and 
to  plunge  deeper  and  still  deeper  into  this  ocean 
without  a  bottom  or  a  shore.  What  a  call  then  for 
christians  of  ordinary  attainments  to  stir  up  their 
sluggish  spirits,  to  clear  away  the  mist  from  their 
eyes,  that  they  may  gaze  with  more  intenseness  up- 
on God, — that  they  may  study  him  with  deeper  scru- 
tiny and  contemplate  him  with  clearer  discernment. 

Several  motives  to  this  have  already  been  pre- 
sented. What  remains  is  to  show  that  a  clear 
knowledge  and  discernment  of  God  is  of  all  things 
the  most  purifying,  the  most  humbling,  the  most  ex- 
alting, the  most  happy, 

I.  It  is  the  most  purifying.  A  sight  of  God  is 
transforming.  It  is  only  when  "  with  open  face  " 
we  behold  "  as  in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord," 
that  we  "are  changed  into  the  same  image  from 
glory  to  glory."     A  view  of  God  shining  "  in  the 


278  THE    KNOWLEDGE    OP   GOD. 

face  of  Jesus  Christ,"  is  the  faith  which  purifies 
the  heart  and  produces  good  works.  When  God 
is  seen  in  all  the  majesty  of  his  glory,  in  the  awful 
purity  of  his  holiness,  the  christian  cannot^  dare  not 
wilfully  sin.  He  has  a  holy  jealousy  of  himself; 
he  dreads  the  least  movement  of  unhallowed  affec- 
tions, the  least  hypocrisy  in  his  devotions,  and  to- 
wards men  is  meek,  gentle,  and  affectionate.  He 
pants  after  universal  purity  with  groanings  that  can- 
not be  uttered.  This  is  the  faith  "  which  worketh 
by  /oi>e," — by  deep  and  fervent  love  :  and  it  is  love 
only  that  can  purify  the  soul.  Under  the  influence 
of  these  views  the  christian  knows  what  it  is  to  be 
moved  to  action  by  the  love  of  God  in  Christ,  and 
can  draw  from  God  all  his  motives  to  active  service 
and  holy  living.  He  feels  it  reasonable  to  dedicate 
himself  forever  to  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 
and  longs  to  employ  all  his  faculties  to  the  glory  of 
his  heavenly  Father.  This  is  the  faith  which  over- 
comes the  world.  Riches,  honors,  the  world  are 
dead.  The  christian  can  now  view  things  precise- 
ly in  the  light  that  Paul  did  when  he  counted  all 
things  but  loss  in  comparison  with  the  knowledge 
of  Jesus  Christ. 

Such  a  view  of  God  in  Christ  will  do  more  to 
purify  the  soul  from  sin  and  to  guard  it  against 
temptation,  than  the  most  refined  knowledge  of  sub- 
ordinate subjects  in  religion, — than  all  systematic 
proficiency, — than  gazing  forever  at  the  outside  of 
the  temple  without  looking  within.  It  will  do  more 
than  all  prayers,  and  means,  and  exertions  which 
are  not  accompanied  with  these  direct  views ;  for 


THE    KNOWLEDGE    OF    GOD.  279 

nothing  but  direct  views  can  produce  love.  A  rag- 
ing fire  is  not  extinguished  by  beating  the  flame,  but 
by  a  plentiful  application  of  the  opposite  element. 
And  the  fire  of  lust  and  passion  is  not  to  be  sub- 
dued by  human  eflforts  directly  applied;  it  yields 
only  to  the  love  of  God, — love  which  nothing  but 
direct  views  of  him  can  excite.  These  views  are 
of  more  efficacy  to  cleanse  the  soul  than  all  the 
glooms  of  guilt.  It  is  a  mistake  to  calculate  on  pu- 
rifying the  heart  by  confining  our  views  to  ourselves 
and  our  sins,  and  plunging  into  darkness  to  avoid 
being  proud  of  our  comfort.  One  such  view  of 
God  as  saints  enjoy  in  heaven,  is  a  greater  defence 
against  sin  than  all  the  glooms  of  hell.  Hence  we 
read  of  escaping  "  the  pollutions  of  the  world 
through  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ,"  and  are  exhorted  to  "  grow  in  grace 
and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour." 
Our  text  connects  a  fruitfulness  "  in  every  good 
work"  with  "  increasing  in  the  knowledge  of  God;" 
and  Peter  speaks  of  eminent  christians  not  being 
"  barren  nor  unfruitful  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ."  The  want  of  this  knowledge  is  made 
a  distinctive  mark  of  slaves  to  sin,  and  a  profession 
of  this  knowledge  is  counted  for  a  profession  of 
purity:  "Awake  to  righteousness  and  sin  not;  for 
some,  [does  he  say  that  they  are  slaves  to  sin  ?  no, 
but  he  says  the  same  thing  in  other  words ;  for 
some]  have  not  the  knowledge  of  God."  "  They 
profess  to  know  God,  but  in  works  they  deny  him," 
and  prove  by  their  sins  that  they  know  him  not. 
Would  you  then  make  greater  advances  in  grace  ? 


280  THE    KNOWLEDGE    OF    GOD. 

Would  you  escape  the  sins  and  overcome  the  temp- 
tations which  cause  you  so  much  distress  ?  Would 
you  attain  to  a  more  heavenly  mind  and  wear  for- 
ever a  brighter  crown  ?  There  is  but  one  way ; — 
you  must  increase  in  the  knowledge  of  God. 

II.  This  knowledge  is  the  most  humbling  of  all 
things.  Other  knowledge  "puffeth  up,"  but  the 
more  God  is  seen  the  more  abased  the  soul  will  be. 
All  the  glooms  of  guilt,  all  the  fears  of  hell,  all  the 
views  of  sin  which  are  not  accompanied  with  a  spi- 
ritual discernment  of  God,  will  not  humble  the  soul. 
These  all  exist  in  hell,  but  there  is  no  humility  there. 
The  most  just  and  exquisite  sense  of  sin  is  acquir- 
ed by  considering,  not  so  much  what  we  have  done, 
as  what  God  is.  A  discovery  of  his  awful  dignity 
and  excellent  holiness  reveals  the  evil  of  sinning 
against  him,  and  lays  the  penitent  soul  speechless 
at  his  feet.  When  we  can  perceive  God  to  be  so 
holy  and  glorious  that  a  bare  neglect  to  love  him 
would  deserve  eternal  wo,  and  that  no  conceivable 
punishment  is  great  enough  for  the  wretch  that  dares 
rebel  against  him ;  when  with  spiritual  discernment 
we  contemplate  God  turning  the  angels  out  of  hea- 
ven for  sin,  turning  Adam  out  of  Eden,  turning  a 
beautiful  world  into  a  prison  house  of  groans,  a 
shambles  of  blood,  turning  millions  into  hell,  and 
more  than  all,  thrusting  his  sword  through  the  heart 
of  his  own  Son ;  then  we  discover,  in  a  light  un- 
known before,  what  sin  deserves  and  what  we  are ; 
and  lifting  a  pleading  eye  to  Jesus,  we  lay  ourselves 
down  in  the  dust  to  wonder  at  the  patience  and 
mercy  of  God.     No  flights  of  soul  are  felt,  but  a 


THE    KNOWLKDOK    OF    GOD.  281 

heavenly  calm.  Animal  feelings  lie  still  and  over- 
awed. All  is  silent  wonder  and  complacency;  not 
a  passion,  but  a  solid  reality  of  feeling ;  not  a  ten- 
der tumult  of  animal  nature,  but  something  like  the 
clear  vision  of  the  soul.  While  the  religion  of  the 
animal  affections  inflates  the  soul  with  self-conceit, 
this  is  the  surest  death  of  pride  and  every  evil  pas- 
sion. Instead  of  making  comparisons  in  his  own 
favor,  the  christian  now  thinks  himself  a  barenaked 
nothing  before  God,  and  wonders  that  such  a  being 
should  set  his  love  on  him.  The  more  he  feels  his 
guilt,  the  more  happy  his  humbled  spirit  is;  for 
guilt  brings  a  sense  of  the  precious  mercy  of  his 
God  and  Saviour ;  and  he  now  perceives,  what  to 
some  may  seem  a  paradox,  that  if  a  sense  of  guilt 
were  banished  from  heaven,  much  of  the  happiness 
of  heaven  would  be  banished  with  it.  While  he 
thus  lies  in  the  dust,  gazing  upon  the  face  of  God, 
he  forgets  to  make  calculation  for  his  own  charac- 
ter, and  thinks  not  so  much  what  he  is  or  is  to  be, 
as  what  God  is.  He  would  rather  enjoy  the  light 
of  heaven  in  retirement,  unknowing  and  unknown, 
than  without  this  to  be  arrayed  in  imperial  purple. 
He  feels  indifferent  to  human  distinctions,  and  has 
no  present  necessity  to  guard  against  the  fear  of 
man.  He  is  now  conscious  of  the  impenetrable 
fortitude  which  disinterested  humility  can  produce. 
With  all  his  views,  he  is  sensible  that  he  yet  sees 
but  a  glimpse  of  God,  feels  guilty  for  the  want  of 
clearer  apprehensions,  fears  the  loss  of  the  little 
sense  he  has,  and  pants  earnestly  after  more. 

Vol.  I.  36 


282  THE    KNOWLEDGE    OF    GOD. 

Such  a  glimpse  of  God  had  Job  when  all  his  glo- 
ry fell  and  withered  in  the  dust.  No  sooner  had 
God  spoken  from  the  whirlwind,  than  he  laid  him- 
self on  his  face  aud  meekly  said,  "  I  have  heard  of 
thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear,  but  now  my  eye 
seeth  thee ;  wherefore  I  abhor  myself  and  repent 
in  dust  and  ashes."  When  Elijah  was  in  Horeb, 
neither  the  "great  and  strong  wind"  that  "rent 
the  mountains  and  broke  in  pieces  the  rocks,"  nor 
yet  the  "  earthquake"  nor  the  "  fire,"  could  move 
him ;  but  when  the  "  still  small  voice"  came,  dif- 
fusing through  his  soul  a  sense  of  God,  instantly  he 
wrapped  his  blushing  face  in  his  mantle.  "When 
Isaiah  saw  "  the  Lord  sitting  on  a  throne  high  and 
Hfted  up,  and  his  train"  filling  "  the  temple,"  and 
the  seraphim  crying,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord 
of  Hosts,"  and  "  the  posts  of  the  door"  moving  at 
the  sound  of  their  voice ;  then  it  was  that  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Wo  is  me,  for  I  am  undone ;  because  I 
am  a  man  of  unclean  lips,  and  I  dwell  in  the  midst 
of  a  people  of  unclean  lips;  [how  did  he  discover 
this  ?]  for  my  eyes  have  seen  the  King,  the  Lord  of 
Hosts."  When  Peter  discovered  the  Godhead  of 
Christ  shining  gloriously  through  the  man,  he  in- 
stantly fell  at  his  feet,  saying,  "  Depart  from  me, 
for  I  am  a  sinful  man,  O  Lord."  When  Daniel, 
Ezekiel  and  John,  had  visions  of  God,  though  it  was 
but  a  glimpse  that  they  saw,  they  fell  on  their  faces 
and  became  as  dead  men.  Thus  it  appears  that  a 
sight  of  God  has  the  greatest  power  to  abase  the 
creature.     If  then  you  wish  the  haughtiness  of  your 


TtiE    KNOWLEDGE    OP    GOD.  283 

heart  reduced,  the  torment  of  your  pride  reheved, 
and  would  enjoy  the  luxury  of  an  humble  mind,  you 
must  increase  in  the  knowledge  of  God. 

III.  This  knowledge,  at  the  same  time  that  it  is 
the  most  humbling,  is  the  most  exalting.  One  such 
view  as  Moses  had,  will  raise  the  soul  above  the 
world  and  lift  it  to  heaven.  It  will  do  more  than 
all  other  views  to  ennoble  the  mind,  to  elevate  it 
above  the  vulgar  pursuits  of  men,  and  make  it  con- 
versant with  the  skies.  If  it  is  a  dignity  to  be  in- 
timately acquainted  with  great  me?i,  what  is  the  dig- 
nity of  knowing  and  being  known  of  God  ?  It  is 
the  most  noble  and  sublime  knowledge,  and  worthy 
of  the  most  aspiring  desires  of  the  immortal  mind. 

IV.  This  knowledge  brings  with  it  the  greatest 
happiness.  One  direct  view  of  God  fills  the  soul 
with  greater  peace  than  the  most  splendid  attain- 
ments in  the  subordinate  branches  of  divine  know- 
ledge,— than  the  most  extensive  acquaintance  with 
human  science, — than  all  the  glories  of  the  world. 
Such  is  the  nature  of  God,  and  such  is  the  nature 
of  man,  that  nothing  in  heaven  or  earth  can  fill  the 
human  soul  with  peace  and  joy,  and  satisfy  its  im- 
mortal cravings,  but  the  knowledge  and  enjoyment 
of  God.  This  is  to  be  the  happiness  of  heaven,  be- 
cause nothing  greater  can  be  provided  for  creatures. 
When  the  glories  of  God  break  upon  the  soul, 
peace  descends  upon  it  hke  "  the  dew  of  Hermon ;" 
all  its  disturbing  passions  are  still ;  it  feels  not  the 
uneasiness  of  one  unsatisfied  desire.  God  reigns, — 
God  is  in  its  view, — God  is  its  portion,  and  it  is 
enough.     It  enjoys  a  peace  which  passeth  under- 


284  THE    KNOWLEDGE    OP    GOD. 

Standing.  Bright  are  its  mornings,  calm  its  noons, 
and  serene  its  nights.  When  the  ardent  Peter  cast 
an  affectionate  eye  upon  the  churches,  he  would 
breathe  no  wish  more  fervent  than  that  "  grace  and 
peace  "  might  "  be  multiplied  unto  "  them  "  through 
the  knowledge  of  God  and  of  Jesus  our  Lord." 
Let  the  race  of  men  then  return  from  their  idle  pur- 
suits, and  know  that  the  shortest  and  only  road  to 
happiness  is  found.  Here  is  the  great  secret  disco- 
vered which  men  have  searched  for  in  every  land, 
and  roved  to  seek  in  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

These  direct  views  of  God,  and  none  but  these, 
can  bless  the  soul  with  "  the  full  assurance  of 
hope."  The  lower  exercises  of  religion  cannot  do 
it.  Self  examination,  without  these  direct  views, 
cannot  do  it.  But  under  these  open  views,  the 
christian  is  conscious  of  taking  firm  hold  of  God  in 
Christ,  and  knows  that  there  is  not  a  phantom  in  his 
embrace,  but  the  very  God  of  Israel.  He  sees  him 
to  be  a  solid  rock,  and  knows  that  he  rests  his  soul 
on  him  and  cannot  sink.  He  is  conscious  of  be- 
lieving in  him,  and  trusts  in  the  divine  word  that 
he  shall  be  accepted  and  kept  to  the  heavenly  king- 
dom. His  former  hopes,  which  arose  from  tender 
meltings  of  soul,  were  feeble  and  wavering ;  but 
now  his  hope  is  a  solid  thing,  excited  by  an  open 
view  of  the  fulness  and  faithfulness  of  God  in  Christ. 
He  can  now  lift  an  unpresuming  eye  to  heaven  and 
call  it  all  his  own.  He  can  gaze  at  the  throne  of 
God  which  once  rocked  with  thunders,  and  see  no 
terrors  there.  With  lips  trembling  with  gratitude 
and  eyes  suffused  with  tears,  he  can  look  up  and 


THE    KNOWLEDGE    OF   GOD.  285 

call  the  Almighty  God  his  father,  and  the  blessed 
Jesus  his  Saviour  and  his  brother.  Standing  on 
the  summit  of  Pisgah  and  stretching  his  eyes  over 
his  inheritance,  he  rejoices  "  with  joy  unspeakable 
and  full  of  glory."  This  is  the  blessed  consequence 
of  "  increasing  in  the  knowledge  of  God."  "  Ac- 
quaint now  thyself  with  him  and  be  at  peace ;  there- 
by good  shall  come  unto  thee." 

Suffer  me  now,  my  dear  hearers,  to  bring  these 
several  arguments  to  bear  on  the  single  point,  and 
to  press  you  with  their  united  force  to  devote  your- 
selves to  the  study  of  God,  and  to  earnest  exer- 
tions after  more  clear  and  spiritual  views  of  him. 

My  first  address  shall  be  to  professing  christians. 
By  all  the  motives  which  have  been  presented,  I 
pray  you,  my  brethren,  not  to  rest  satisfied  with  su- 
perficial knowledge,  nor  with  enlarged  knowledge 
of  subordinate  branches  of  christian  science ;  but 
seek  earnestly  to  obtain  a  deep  and  spiritual  dis- 
cernment of  God.  Rest  not  contented  with  the 
name  and  profession  of  christians.  Rest  not  con- 
tented with  a  few  serious  thoughts,  added  to  a  cold 
round  of  external  duties,  while  your  minds  remain 
confused  on  every  elevated  point  of  religious  truth. 
Think  it  not  enough  that  you  can  weep  at  a  descrip- 
tion of  Christ's  sufferings,  without  understanding 
the  designs  of  his  death  or  discerning  the  glories  of 
the  way  of  salvation  by  him.  Seek  to  know  more 
of  the  vast  designs  which  God  is  carrying  into  exe- 
cution in  the  government  of  the  world.  Strive  to 
add  to  systematic  knowledge,  clear  views  of  the 


286  THE    KNOWLEDGE    OF    GOD. 

glory  of  God  in  all  his  works  and  ways.  When 
you  open  your  bibles,  let  it  be  with  earnest  desires 
to  find  something  that  shall  give  you  a  greater  in- 
sight into  the  character  of  God  and  the  wonders  of 
redemption.  When  you  open  any  other  religious 
book,  let  it  not  be  to  amuse  yourselves  with  the 
beauties  of  the  style,  nor  to  obtain  mere  systema- 
tic knowledge,  nor  to  produce  a  general  indiscrimi- 
nate impression  of  seriousness ;  but  to  obtain,  if 
possible,  clearer  and  more  extensive  views  of  God. 
When  you  enter  the  house  of  God,  let  it  not  be  to 
gratify  curiosity,  nor  to  conform  to  fashion,  nor 
merely  from  a  general  wish  to  perform  a  duty ;  but 
always  come  with  a  prayer  on  your  tongue  that  you 
may  behold  the  glory  of  God  in  the  sanctuary,  and 
carry  away  some  enlarged  views  of  his  perfections. 
When  you  hold  religious  conversation  with  your 
christian  friends,  let  it  not  be  to  hear  yourselves 
talk,  and  to  indulge  the  common  loquaciousness  of 
empty  minds,  nor  to  display  your  zeal,  nor  to  enjoy 
the  pleasure  of  being  moved  yourselves  or  moving 
others  to  weep,  nor  even  for  the  sake  of  the  mere 
satisfaction  of  spending  a  serious  hour;  but  let 
your  object  be  to  obtain  and  communicate  a  more 
distinct  and  affecting  knowledge  of  God.  When 
you  kneel  to  pray,  let  it  always  be  with  an  intense 
desire  to  obtain  clearer  views  of  God,  and  to  arise 
more  deeply  impressed  with  a  sense  of  his  glorious 
attributes.  In  the  time  of  prayer,  keep  your  eyes 
steadfastly  fixed  on  God,  and  let  all  the  efforts  ot 
your  devotion  be  to  look  further  and  still  further 


THE    KNOWLEDGE    OF    GOD.  2S7 

into  the  immeasurable  heights  of  his  perfections. 
Let  this  be  the  object  of  all  your  serious  medita- 
tions and  of  all  your  religious  duties. 

Such  a  course,  persisted  in  with  sincerity  and  ar- 
dor, could  not  fail  to  raise  you  to  the  rank  of  emi- 
nent christians.  If  you  would  faithfully  make  the 
experiment  for  a  single  year,  you  would  see  what  a 
great  difference  it  would  make  in  your  graces  and 
comforts.  And  I  will  venture  to  predict  with  confi- 
dence, that  you  will  never  grow  in  grace  in  any 
other  way,  and  that  you  will  grow  in  grace  exactly 
in  proportion  as  you  sincerely  pursue  this  course. 
You  never  will  become  eminent  christians  on  easier 
terms.  Will  you  then  set  out  in  this  course,  and 
holding  on  your  way  with  unwearied  zeal,  aspire  to 
eminence  in  piety?  Why  should  you  not  become 
distinguished  christians  ?  Why  should  you  not  aim 
at  the  eminence  of  Enoch  and  Moses  and  David 
and  Elijah?  The  same  God  that  raised  them  so 
high  still  reigns,  and  is  accessible  to  you.  You 
may  go  to  that  exhaustless  store-house  and  take  as 
much  as  you  please.  Why  benumb  every  effort  by 
the  miserable  calculation  that  it  is  not  for  you  to  at- 
tain such  eminence  ?  Who  told  you  so  but  your 
own  sluggish  hearts?  The  grace  and  power  of  God 
are  open  to  you,  and  if  you  fall  short  of  that  su- 
perior height  the  fault  will  be  your  own.  If  you 
are  straitened,  you  are  not  straitened  in  God  but  in 
yourselves.  Will  you  then  arise  from  your  slug- 
gish repose  and  march  manfully  toward  the  mark, 
and  resolve  to  die  stretching  with  all  your  might  to 
outstrip  the  piety  of  the  prophets  ? 


288  THE    KNOWLEDGE    OF    GOD. 

Alas  the  world  draws  so  powerfully  that  I  fear 
few  will  be  excited  to  such  noble  calculations.  In 
the  present  rage  for  gain  and  distinction,  the  mass 
of  professors  seem  determined  not  to  be  encumber- 
ed with  more  religion  than  will  allow  them  to  take 
the  world  along  with  them  to  heaven.  How  few 
there  are  that  aspire  to  more  religion  than  just 
enough  to  keep  them  out  of  hell.  It  is  not  a  day 
to  form  many  eminent  christians.  It  is  a  day  of  too 
much  prosperity  and  worldly  attachment.  The 
times  of  persecution  and  ancient  simplicity  could 
produce  a  Flavel  and  a  Baxter  and  a  thousand 
others,  inferior  only  to  them.  But  where  are  the 
Baxters  and  Flavels  of  the  present  day  ?  Prospe- 
rity has  weakened  our  strength,  and  the  world  has 
bound  us  fast,  and  here  we  sleep  in  ignoble  sloth, 
and  exist  only  to  shame  our  fathers  and  contami-, 
nate  our  children.  In  the  name  of  God,  my  bre- 
thren, awake  and  move  towards  heaven.  Rend  the 
veil  from  your  eyes,  tear  the  world  from  your  hearts, 
and  arise  to  life  and  to  action.  Must  I  return  and 
make  the  complaint  to  him  who  sent  me,  that  they 
will  not  hear?  While  I  speak  thus  to  you,  my 
dear  brethren,  I  reprove  myself.  I  have  reason  to 
bow  under  the  humiliating  thought  that  I  too  have 
little  knowledge  or  sense  of  God.  To  whom  then 
shall  we  all  apply  ?  Who  shall  give  us  and  a  sleep- 
ing world  a  clearer  discovery  of  God  ?  He,  he 
only,  can  pluck  the  film  from  our  eyes  and  pour  his 
glories  upon  our  astonished  sight.  O  that  he  would 
come  forth  and  force  himself  upon  our  view.  O 
that  he  would  speak,  and  shake  a  drowsy  world 


THE    KNOWLEDGE    OP    GOD.  289 

from  their  sleep,  and  show  them  what  a  God  there 
is  that  ruleth  in  the  earth. 

One  word  to  impenitent  sinners  and  I  have  done. 
Have  you  no  desire,  my  unhappy  friends,  to  know 
that  God  in  whose  presence  you  must  shortly  stand, 
whose  hand  must  measure  out  your  rewards  or  smite 
you  with  his  thunders  ?  Did  you  never  read  that 
*'  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  shall  be  revealed  from  hea- 
ven with  his  mighty  angels,  in  flaming  fire,  taking 
vengeance  on  them  that  know  not  God  ?"  You  are 
they  that  know  not  God ;  and  in  this  state  you  are 
fast  approaching  the  judgment  of  the  great  day; 
and  here  you  are  sleeping  in  dreadful  security ! 
God  Almighty  awaken  you  from  the  slumbers  of 
your  destruction  !  Do  you  begin  to  awake  ?  Do 
you  wish  to  find  the  knowledge  of  God  ?  Shall  I 
tell  you  how  you  can  be  so  blest  ?  "  If  thou  criest 
after  knowledge  and  liftest  up  thy  voice  for  under- 
standing ;  if  thou  seekest  her  as  silver  and  search- 
est  for  her  as  for  hidden  treasures,  then  shalt  thou 
understand  the  fear  of  the  Lord  and  find  the  know- 
ledge of  God.''"'  I  can  say  no  more.  I  deliver  you 
over  into  the  hands  of  divine  grace,  and  pray  "  that 
the  God  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  Father  of 
glory,  may  give  unto  you  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and 
revelation  in  the  knowledge  of  him."    Amen. 


Vol.  I.  37 


SERMON  II. 


THE  TENDER  MERCIES  OF  GOD. 


ISAI.   LXIII.   7. 

I  will  mention  the  loving  kindnesses  of  the  Lord  and  the  praises  of  the 
Lordj  according  to  all  that  the  Lord  hath  bestowed  on  us,  and  the  great 
goodness  towards  the  house  of  Israel  which  he  hath  bestowed  on  them,  ac- 
cording to  his  mercies,  and  according  to  the  multitude  of  his  loving  kind- 


The  prophet,  when  he  uttered  these  words,  ap- 
peared to  labor  under  an  ineffable  sense  of  the  ten- 
der mercies  and  loving  kindnesses  of  his  God.  He 
had  been  contemplating  the  wrath  with  which  God 
would  one  day  visit  Edom  when  he  should  come  to 
deliver  his  people  from  her  oppressions.  Immedi- 
ately he  raises  an  interesting  contrast  and  sets  be- 
fore his  eyes  God's  "  great  goodness  towards  the 
house  of  Israel "  in  loosing  their  Egyptian  bonds 
and  conducting  them  through  the  wilderness.  In 
this  type  as  through  a  glass,  he  discovered  the  won- 
drous love  which  redeems  the  Church  from  more 
oppressive  chains,  and  supports  her  in  her  journey 


292  THE    TENDER 

to  the  heavenly  rest.  Under  this  view  he  seemed 
transported,  and  in  his  rapture  exclaimed,  "  I  will 
mention  the  loving  kindnesses  of  the  Lord  and  the 
pra-es  of  the  Lord,  according  to  all  that  the  Lord 
hath  bestowed  on  us,  and  the  great  goodness  to- 
wards the  house  of  Israel  which  he  hath  bestowed 
on  them,  according  to  his  mercies,  and  according 
to  the  multitude  of  his  loving  kindnesses." 

Though  we  should  not  raise  our  eyes  to  the  exalt- 
ed love  which  shines  in  the  Gospel,  still  we  should 
have  abundant  reason  to  mention  the  loving  kind- 
nesses of  the  Lord.  Without  any  adviser  or  helper 
he  introduced  us  to  rational  existence,  and  raised 
us  to  intellectual  enjoyment.  By  his  unceasing 
care,  that  existence  is  hourly  supported.  Our  ta- 
ble is  furnished  and  our  raiment  supplied  by  his  be- 
nignant hand.  We  are  blest  with  pleasant  habita- 
tions and  possessions  ;  we  enjoy  the  delights  of  re- 
fined society,  the  blessings  of  friendship,  and  the 
life  and  happiness  of  our  friends.  Our  health  is 
sustained  by  a  thousand  minute  and  constantly  re- 
peated touches  of  his  hand  to  the  various  parts  of 
our  complicated  machine.  All  the  pleasures  of 
imagination,  of  memory,  of  hope,  of  sympathy, 
and  of  sense ;  all  the  magic  charms  which  play  on 
nature's  face,  are  the  gifts  of  his  bounteous  hand. 
By  his  watchful  care  we  are  protected  from  count- 
less visible  and  unseen  dangers.  By  innumerable 
impressions  made  on  our  animal  spirits  by  his  care- 
ful touch,  we  are  put  in  tone  to  enjoy  the  objects 
around  us.  More  numerous  are  his  mercies  than 
the  stars  which  look  out  of  heaven.    On  no  section 


MERCIES    OF    GOD.  293 

of  our  life, — on  no  point  of  nature's  works, — scarce- 
ly on  a  circumstance  in  our  relations  to  society, 
can  we  fix  our  eyes,  without  seeing  "  the  loving 
kindnesses  of  the  Lord."  But  when  we  lift  our 
thoughts  to  his  "  great  goodness  towards  the  house 
of  Israel,"  our  souls  faint  under  the  labor  of  ex- 
pressing the  praise  we  owe.  Redeeming  grace 
most  fully  displays  the  richness  and  extent  of  his 
loving  kindnesses ;  redeeming  grace  was  the  theme 
which  transported  the  author  of  our  text ;  and  re- 
deeming grace  shall  be  the  subject  of  this  discourse. 

To  discover  the  heights  or  to  fathom  the  depths 
of  this  grace,  exceeds  the  power  of  men  or  angels ; 
yet  the  view  perhaps  may  be  enlightened  by  some 
of  the  following  reflections. 

In  purposing  and  planning  the  great  work  of  re- 
demption, the  Eternal  Mind  was  self -moved,  un- 
counselled,  unsolicited.  No  angel  interceded  or  ad- 
vised ;  no  man  by  his  prayers  or  tears  excited  pity. 
Before  men  or  angels  had  existence,  the  purpose 
was  fixed  and  the  plan  was  formed  by  boundless 
love,  unmoved,  unasked,  untempted  by  any  thing 
without  but  the  foreseen  miseries  of  a  perishing 
world. 

This  love  was  wholly  disinterested,  having  no  re- 
ward in  view  but  the  pleasure  of  doing  good.  What 
other  recompense  could  God  expect  from  creatures 
who  have  nothing  to  give  but  what  they  receive  ? 
What  other  reward  could  eternal  self-sufficience 
need  ? 

This  love  is  still  more  sublime  considered  as  act- 
ing  towards  inferiors.     When  love  is  not  the  most 


294  THE    TENDER 

pure,  we  daily  see,  it  will  overlook  those  who  have 
no  eminence  to  engage  respect.  On  this  account 
the  condescending  regard  which  some  benevolent 
prince  may  pay  to  the  poor  and  forsaken,  is  pecu- 
liarly affecting.  What  then  shall  we  say  when  we 
behold  Infinite  Majesty  descending  to  such  tender 
concern  for  dust  and  ashes  ? 

Redeeming  love  is  still  more  wonderful  as  exer- 
cised towards  enemies;  towards  those  who  could 
reject  the  offered  salvation, — who  were  not  to  be 
moved  by  all  the  entreaties  of  heaven, — and  who 
had  mahce  enough  to  murder  the  Author  of  life  in 
the  very  act  of  bringing  it  to  them. 

This  love  appears  altogether  astonishing  when 
we  consider  the  greatness  of  the  sacrifice  it  made. 
That  God  himself,  (infinite,  eternal,  and  self-suffi- 
cient as  he  was,)  should  bring  himself  down  to  a 
mortal  form ;  that  he  who  made  the  heavens  should 
descend  from  among  the  adorations  of  angels  to  as- 
sume the  form  of  a  servant  and  to  receive  the  spit- 
tings of  Roman  soldiers ;  that  he  should  exchange 
the  quiet  of  eternal  repose  for  a  laborious  life, — 
the  abodes  of  inaccessible  light  for  the  degrading 
manger, — the  society  of  the  Father  and  Spirit  for 
that  of  illiterate  fishermen, — the  heights  of  infinite 
bliss  for  the  agonies  of  Gethsemane  and  Golgotha  ;— 
and  all  to  atone  for  abuses  which  he  himself  had 
received  from  men ;  fixes  angels  in  astonishment 
and  rivets  their  eyes  to  him  who  still  bears  the  prints 
of  the  nails  and  the  spear.  That  this  divine  Suf- 
ferer did  not  recede,  but  remained  immovable  in  his 
purpose  in  a  near  view  of  his  agonies ;  that  he  did 


MERCIES    OF    GOD.  295 

not  strike  and  rivet  his  insulting  murderers  to  the 
centre,  but  spent  his  expiring  breath  in  prayer  for 
their  Hfe ;  evinces,  not  love  only,  but  love  uncon- 
querable. 

The  extent  of  redeeming  love  further  appears  in 
the  magnitude  of  the  blessings  which  it  intended  for 
a  ruined  race.  It  stooped  to  catch  a  falling  world ; 
to  snatch  them  from  eternal  flames  to  the  transports 
of  immortal  life, — from  everlasting  contempt  to  be 
" kings  and  priests "  forever  "unto  God;"  to  raise 
them  from  the  turpitude  of  sin  to  the  purity  of  the 
divine  image, — from  a  dungeon  to  the  radiance  of 
heaven, — from  the  society  of  devils  to  communion 
with  angels, — from  the  blasphemies  of  hell  to  the 
songs  of  paradise, — from  universal  destitution  to 
inherit  all  riches, — to  be  sons  and  heirs  of  God, — 
members  of  the  Redeemer's  body, — to  live  in  his 
family  and  heart,  and  forever  to  expand  in  the  re- 
gions of  light  and  life. 

This  mercy  is  heightened  by  the  fact  that  the  Sa- 
viour is  so  necessary,  reasonable,  and  all-siifficient. 
Intrusted  with  all  the  offices  needful  for  man's  re- 
demption, he  possesses  powers  fully  adequate  to  the 
infinite  work,  and  exerts  them  when  and  where  they 
are  most  needed.  It  is  his  stated  business  to  strike 
off*  the  chains  from  wretched  prisoners, — to  admi- 
nister balm  to  those  who  are  wounded  to  death, — 
food  to  those  who  are  perishing  with  hunger, — eyes 
and  light  to  the  blind  and  benighted.  He  is  the 
" shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land,"  —  "a 
hiding  place  from  the  wind  and  a  covert  from  the 
tempest."    In  his  prophetic  office  he  brings  out  to 


296  THE    TENDER 

view  the  secrets  of  the  Eternal  Mind :  as  a  Priest 
he  pacifies  divine  wrath  by  atonement  and  interces- 
sion :  as  a  King  he  subdues  the  stubborn  will,  marks 
out  the  road  to  life  by  salutary  precepts,  defends 
from  spiritual  enemies,  and  renders  all  events  sub- 
servient to  the  good  of  his  people.  As  Captain  of 
the  Lord's  host  he  will  carry  them  through  their 
warfare  and  bring  them  off  victorious.  As  Physi- 
cian of  souls  he  will  heal  all  their  spiritual  maladies 
and  confirm  them  in  immortal  health.  He  is  a  most 
pleasant  resting  place  from  the  perturbations  of 
guilt,  the  vexations  of  care,  and  the  anguish  of  af- 
fliction. Possessing  inexhaustible  life  in  himself, 
be  is  the  source  of  unfailing  life  to  his  members, 
who  before  were  "  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins." 
As  "Heir  of  all  things"  and  Distributer  of  the 
whole  estate,  he  has  every  necessary  good  to  impart, 
in  this  world  and  infinite  riches  in  the  world  to 
come. 

This  mercy  is  still  further  heightened  by  the  pa^ 
tience  and  condescending  tenderness  which  he  exer- 
cises towards  his  people  He  calls  them  his  friends, 
his  brethren,  his  children,  his  spouse,  the  members 
of  his  body,  the  apple  of  his  eye.  In  the  charac- 
ter of  a  near  and  tender  relation,  he  has  become  a 
mild  medium  through  which  they  may  look  up  into 
the  insufferable  splendors  of  the  Godhead  without 
dazzling  or  paining  their  sight.  Although  the  aw- 
ful God  of  majesty,  he  is  not  ashamed  to  own  and 
befriend  a  poor  race  of  unsightly  outcasts  and  to 
take  them  into  union  with  himself.  With  uncon- 
querable patience  he  bears  with  all  their  provoca- 


MERCIES    OF    GOD.  297 

tions,  and  with  unfailing  faithfulness  remains  their 
friend  during  all  their  perverseness  and  ingratitude. 
Though  their  returns  are  such  as  would  weary  any 
other  love,  he  is  still  engaged  in  pardoning  their 
sins,  subduing  their  corruptions,  and  conducting 
them  to  glory.  As  a  tender  shepherd  he  gathers 
the  lambs  in  his  arms  and  carries  them  in  his  bo- 
som. And  O  with  what  overpowering  kindness 
does  he  speak  to  them  when  he  holds  communion 
with  them ;  when  he  meets  them  in  a  happy  hour 
as  they  are  walking  out  like  Isaac  to  meditate  at  the 
evening  tide,  and  drawing  aside  the  vail,  shows  the 
sweetest  countenance  dressed  in  celestial  smiles; 
or  when  finding  them  bowed  to  the  earth  and  drench- 
ed in  tears,  he  gently  raises  them  in  his  arms,  and 
with  more  than  a  mother's  tenderness  wipes  the  sor- 
rows from  their  cheeks  and  breathes  ineftable  con- 
solation into  their  spirits.  Ye  who  have  known  his 
love,  can  witness  the  ineffable  sweetness  with  which 
he  manifests  himself  at  such  seasons.  In  his  pro- 
vidence he  takes  care  to  suffer  no  real  evil  to  befall 
his  people,  to  withhold  from  them  no  real  good,  and 
to  make  them  the  happier  for  every  event.  And 
when  this  trying  life  is  past,  he  will  receive  them  to 
his  own  presence,  to  a  near  and  ever  increasing 
union  to  himself,  where  love  perfect  and  reciprocal 
shall  hold  immortal  reign. 

This  wondrous  mercy  is  further  expressed  in  the 
gift  of  sabbaths  and  sacraments,  and  especially  the 
written  word.  When  we  perceive  the  breathings  of 
divine  love  in  those  precious  Scriptures  which  were 
inspired  by  the  Holy  Ghost ;  when  the  soul  lies  at 

Vol.  1.  38 


29S  THE    TENDER 

some  divine  promise,  drinking  in  immortal  refresh- 
ment, and  filling  itself  as  from  some  celestial  spring, 
O  how  rich  and  vast  does  the  love  of  God  appear. 

Fresh  evidences  of  this  love  spring  up  at  every 
review  of  his  past  providence  towards  the  Church. 
"  In  all  their  afliiction  he  was  afflicted,  and  the  an- 
gel of  his  presence  saved  them ;  in  his  love  and  in 
his  pity  he  redeemed  them,  and  he  bore  them  and 
carried  them  all  the  days  of  old."  The  preserva- 
tion of  Noah  in  the  ark,  the  call  and  protection  of 
Abraham,  the  deliverance  of  the  Church  from  Egypt, 
its  support  in  the  wilderness  and  establishment  in 
Canaan,  the  numerous  deliverances  wrought  for 
Israel,  their  restoration  from  Babylon,  the  establish- 
ment and  astonishing  growth  of  the  Christian  Church, 
its  protection  during  the  successive  persecutions, 
and  the  continued  efforts  of  the  Spirit  to  preserve 
and  enlarge  it,  are  all  monuments  of  amazing  love 
and  faithfulness.  And  when  we  cast  our  eyes  down 
the  slope  of  ages  and  behold  the  glory  of  Zion  fill- 
ing all  the  earth,  how  do  we  dance  as  in  fancied 
visions  and  think  the  bliss  too  great  to  be  real.  And 
then,  when  we  open  the  Scriptures  and  behold  a 
"  Thus  saith  the  Lord  "  expressly  to  confirm  our 
hopes,  with  what  rapturous  gratitude  do  we  make 
our  boast  of  him  ;  "  Lo  this  is  our  God,  we  have 
waited  for  him  and  he  will  save  us  :  this  is  the  Lord, 
we  have  waited  for  him,  we  will  be  glad  and  rejoice 
in  his  salvation." 

All  these  are  the  more  affecting  as  being  marks 
of  distinguishing  love.  Redeeming  grace  passed  by 
the  fallen  angels  to  bring  salvation  to  men.     The 


MERCIES    OF    GOD.  299 

privileges  of  Gospel  light  and  ordinances  were  taken 
from  the  heathen  to  be  given  to  us.  The  blessings 
of  personal  hohness  and  divine  communion  are  con- 
ferred on  the  people  of  God  while  withheld  from 
the  rest  of  the  world.  Our  lives  are  continued  in 
a  world  of  hope  while  millions  are  called  to  their 
last  account.  While  God  was  preserving  the  He- 
brew Church  and  nourishing  it  with  a  Father's  care, 
Edom,  Moab,  and  Ammon  were  given  to  the  sword. 
And  while  angels  sing  only  of  the  goodness  of  the 
Lord,  the  redeemed  will  shout  '"''  grace,  grace^''''  and 
with  higher  notes  and  ecstacies  chant  the  praises  of 
redeeming  love. 

The  grace  of  God  appears  still  greater  as  being 
ahundant  and  free  for  all.  The  language  of  divine 
compassion  is,  "  Ho  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come 
ye  to  the  waters  ;  and  he  that  hath  no  money,  come 
ye,  buy  and  eat;  yea  come,  buy  wine  and  milk 
without  money  and  without  price." 

Having  drawn  this  outline  of  the  mercies  of  God, 
I  shall  now  present  them  as  motives  to  holy  feelings 
and  practical  godhness. 

What  admiration  should  possess  our  minds  as  we 
contemplate  this  wonderful  love  of  God.  Nothing 
in  the  universe  is  so  amazing.  Not  an  angel  in 
heaven  but  lives  in  astonishment  continually.  And 
yet  it  is  infiiiitely  greater  than  ever  Gabriel  imagined. 
As  the  sublime  intellects  of  the  upper  world  expand, 
it  will  appear  more  and  more  amazing  to  eternity. 

And  while  we  wonder  let  gratitude  fill  our  hearts. 
Of  what  avail  is  our  admiration  without  our  thanks? 
It  would  only  bring  us  to  the  condition  of  those  who 


300  THE    TENDER 

gaze  "and  wonder  and  perish."  What  are  our 
hearts  made  of  if  they  can  He  under  the  weight  of 
all  these  obligations  and  be  unthankful  still  ?  Let 
us  retain  a  sense  of  divine  mercies  always  upon  our 
heart,  and  not  suffer  them,  after  a  transient  impres- 
sion, to  pass  off  into  oblivion.  Let  not  the  bless- 
ings of  former  years  be  forgotten,  but  let  them  fre- 
quently be  brought  in  review  before  us,  that  we  may 
never  cease  to  remember  how  much  we  owe  to  our 
Lord. 

To  lasting  gratitude  let  lasting  love  be  added. 
What  infinite  beauty  and  worth  belong  to  Israel's 
God.  And  shall  we  be  thankful  for  personal  favors 
and  not  love  the  benevolence  which  embraces  the 
universe  ?  This  would  be  only  the  contracted  gra- 
titude of  a  heart  that  can  be  engaged  by  nothing 
but  the  loaves  and  fishes. 

Let  it  be  our  daily  ^'o^  that  the  universe  contains 
such  a  God, — a  God  whose  happiness  consists  in 
doing  good,  and  who  is  executing  so  vast  a  plan  for 
the  promotion  of  creature  happiness,  that  he  alrea- 
dy realizes  infinite  blessedness  in  gratified  benevo- 
lence. Let  universal  joy  catch  from  heart  to  heart 
and  circulate  through  heaven  and  earth  that  such  a 
God  lives,  reigns,  and  is  happy.  Let  this  be  our 
morning  and  our  evening  song.  Let  it  break  in  like 
the  dawn  of  day  upon  our  gloomy  hours  ;  and  like 
the  sinking  but  recovered  David,  let  us  be  tran- 
sported with  the  tliought,  "  But  thou,  O  Lord,  shalt 
endure  forever,  and  thy  remembrance  unto  all  ge- 
nerations." 

To  such  a  God  our  highest  jwaise  belongs.     He 


MERCIES    OP    GOD.  301 

is  the  object  of  the  incessant  and  rapturous  praise 
of  all  the  choirs  of  paradise,  and  shall  men  neglect 
their  harps?  In  the  warm  transports  of  David's 
heavenly  muse,  let  us  invoke  the  sun  and  all  the 
orbs  of  light,  the  earth  and  all  the  things  thereon, 
the  heavens  and  all  their  happy  spirits,  to  praise 
the  Lord, — to  praise  him  in  the  heights  and  in  the 
depths, — to  praise  him  with  the  voice  of  song,  and 
with  all  the  varieties  of  instrumental  harmony. 

Let  such  a  God  be  the  supreme  object  of  our 
faith,  our  hope,  our  confidence.  On  him  let  us  place 
our  dependance  for  every  thing  we  need  for  time 
and  eternity.  Renouncing  this  delusive  world  and 
every  idol  which  would  rival  him  in  our  hearts,  let 
us  make  him  our  only  point  of  rest,  our  only  portion. 
Let  him  be  the  object  of  our  daily  and  cheerful  wor- 
ship. Let  hypocrisy  be  banished  from  our  religion, 
and  let  sincerity  mark  our  worship  of  him  whose 
friendship  for  man  has  been  so  sincere.  Disclaim- 
ing all  self-seeking,  after  his  disinterested  love  to 
us,  let  us  live  only  for  him ;  and  in  duty  to  one 
who  so  greatly  denied  himself  for  us,  let  us  largely 
practise  self  denial.  Henceforth  let  us  consecrate 
ourselves  to  the  service  of  him  who  served  us  in 
death ;  and  by  our  obedience  to  all  his  commands 
attest  the  sincerity  of  our  love  and  gratitude. 

God  forbid  that  we  should  be  ashamed  to  confess 
him  before  men  who  was  not  ashamed  to  own  and 
befriend  us  before  his  Father  and  the  holy  angels ; 
or  that  we  should  fail  to  speak  to  a  listening  world 
of  his  excellent  greatness  and  his  excellent  loving 
kindness. 


302  THE    TENDER 

It  becomes  us  to  imitate  his  devotedness  to  the 
glory  of  God  and  the  happiness  of  men  ;  to  put  on 
bowels  of  mercy  and  kindness,  forbearing  one  ano- 
ther in  love,  doing  good  to  all  as  we  have  opportu- 
nity, especially  to  the  household  of  faith ;  conde- 
scending to  men  of  low  degree,  meek  and  gentle  to 
all,  affable,  courteous,  and  obliging,  ready  to  for- 
give injuries,  given  to  hospitality,  and  generous  in 
distributing  to  the  poor  the  gifts  of  a  generous 
God. 

To  the  dominion  of  enthroned  love  it  becomes 
us  to  submit ;  resigning  all  our  interests  to  the  di- 
vine disposal,  and  enduring  with  patience  and  not 
with  petulance  whatever  such  a  God  is  pleased  to 
impose. 

Against  such  a  God  it  is  that  we  have  been  found 
in  arms.  O  "tell  it  not  in  Gath."  Under  the 
weight  of  all  these  obligations  we  have  risen  up  to 
oppose  unbounded  love.  Alas  we  knew  not  what 
we  did.  In  vain  might  our  tears  and  blood  be 
applied  to  efface  stains  so  ignominious  and  deep. 
Well  may  we  go  softly  all  our  years  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  our  soul.  Let  pride  never  again  appear  in 
natures  capable  of  this.  Let  humility  and  hroken- 
ness  of  heart  mark  our  future  lives  ;  and  in  sympa- 
thy with  the  publican  let  us  smite  on  our  guilty 
breasts  and  cry,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner." 

And  since  our  crimes  are  of  so  deep  a  die  that 
nothing  but  atoning  blood  can  wash  them  out,  and 
since  such  infinite  pains  have  been  taken  to  provide 
a  Saviour  for  us, — a  Saviour  every  way  suited  to 
our  wants ;  let  us  gratefully  seize  the  offered  salva- 


MERCIES    OP    GOD.  303 

Hon  and  cast  ourselves  on  him  as  the  only  ground 
of  hope.  And  then,  "though"  our  "sins  be  as 
scarlet  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow  ;  though  they 
be  red  like  crimson  they  shall  be  as  wool." 

Ah  sinners,  how  long  will  you  slight  such  en- 
dearing love  and  reject  such  heaven — astonishing 
mercy  ?  How  long  shall  infinite  tenderness  be 
grieved  at  your  ingratitude  ?  Why  will  you  treat 
with  abuse  that  excellence  which  angels  adore  ? 
Why  will  you  tread  under  foot  that  love  which  dis- 
solves all  heaven  ?  When  will  you  at  length  be 
wise,  and  for  once,  after  so  long  a  time,  act  like 
ingenuous  creatures  ?  Let  the  goodness  of  God 
lead  us  all  to  repentance,  and  let  us  spend  our  days 
in  making  mention  of  the  loving  kindnesses  of  the 
Lord,  and  in  preparing  to  unite  with  the  redeemed 
in  singing,  "  Worthy  is  the  lamb  that  was  slain  to 
receive  power  and  riches  and  wisdom  and  strength 
and  honor  and  glory  and  blessing." 

Now  "  unto  him  that  loved  us  and  washed  us 
from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood,  and  hath  made  us 
kings  and  priests  unto  God  and  his  Father  j  to  him 
be  glory  and  dominion  forever  and  ever.     Amen." 


SERMON  III. 


ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD. 


Rom.  v.  12-19. 


Wherefore  as  by  one  man  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin ; 
and  so  death  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that  all  have  sinned.  For  until  the 
law  sin  was  in  the  world ;  but  sin  is  not  imputed  when  there  is  no  law. 
Nevertheless  death  reigned  from  Adam  to  Moses,  even  over  them  that  had 
not  sinned  after  the  similitude  of  Adam's  transgression,  who  is  the  figure 
of  him  that  was  to  come.  But  not  as  the  offence  so  also  is  the  free  gift. 
For  if  through  the  offence  of  one  many  be  dead,  much  more  the  grace  of 
God  and  the  gift  by  grace  which  is  by  one  man  Jesus  Christ,  hath  abounded 
unto  many.  And  not  as  it  was  by  one  that  sinned  so  is  the  gift;  for  the 
judgment  was  by  one  to  condemnation,  but  the  free  gift  is  of  many  offences 
unto  justification.  For  if  by  one  man's  offence  death  reigned  by  one,  much 
more  they  which  receive  abundance  of  grace  and  of  the  gift  of  righteous- 
ness, shall  reign  in  life  by  one,  Jesus  Christ.  Therefore  as  by  the  offence 
of  one  judgment  came  upon  all  men  to  condemnation,  even  so  by  the  right- 
eousness  of  one  the  free  gift  came  upon  all  men  unto  justification  of  life. 
For  as  by  one  man's  disobedience  many  were  made  sinners,  so  by  the  obe- 
dience of  one  shall  many  be  made  righteous. 

This  is  the  only  passage  in  the  Bible  which  draws 
such  a  complete  parallel  between  Adam  and  Christ ; 
and  therefore  the  extent  of  the  parallel  is  to  be 
learned  from  this  passage  chiefly.  This  is,  I  believe, 

Vol.  I.  39 


306  ADAM    OUR   FEDERAL    HEAD. 

the  only  passage  which  clearly  states  that  the  con- 
demnation of  mankind  to  temporal  death,  carries 
in  it  full  evidence  of  their  condemnation  to  spi- 
ritual and  eternal  death.  It  is  the  only  passage 
which  teaches  that  the  posterity  of  Adam  are,  in 
any  sense,  condemned  to  eternal  death  for  his  sin. 
Not  that  any  are  condemned  before  they  are  per- 
sonally sinners  and  deserving  of  condemnation  on 
their  own  account :  but  a  race  of  infants,  whom 
the  omniscient  eye  sees  to  be  worthy  of  eternal 
death,  but  whose  hearts  cannot  be  expressed  by 
their  own  conduct  so  as  to  become  the  declared 
ground  of  condemnation,  are  publicly  condemned, 
not  for  the  wickedness  of  Adam's  heart,  but  for  an 
outward  act  of  his,  which,  by  fixing,  disclosed  their 
hearts  as  much  as  any  act  of  their  own  could  have 
done.  The  only  points  that  we  shall  have  to  leave 
among  the  hidden  things  of  God,  are,  that  infants 
are  allowed  to  come  into  the  world  depraved,  either 
on  account  of  Adam's  sin  or  otherwise,  and  that 
they  are  condemned  to  eternal  death  for  their  own 
depravity. 

Before  entering  on  the  consideration  of  the  text, 
I  wish  to  bring  up  what  information  I  can  gather, 
on  the  general  subject,  from  other  parts  of  Scrip- 
ture. I  will  therefore  divide  the  labor  into  two 
parts,  and  will, 

I.  Present  the  light  which  other  parts  of  the  Bi- 
ble cast  on  this  general  subject. 

II.  Consider  the  federal  headship  treated  of  in 
the  text. 

I.  I  will  present  the  light  which  other  parts  of  the 
Bible  cast  on  this  general  subject. 


ADAM    OUR    FEDERAL    HEAD.  307 

1.  Several  things  which  God  originally  said  of 
Adam  and  to  Adam,  but  which  had  no  immediate 
connexion  with  the  covenant  made  with  him,  were 
obviously  meant  of  his  whole  posterity.  For  in- 
stance :  "  God  said,  Let  us  make  man  in  our  image, 
— and  let  them  have  dominion  over — all  the  earth. — 
And  he  said"  to  the  first  created  pair  "  Be  fruitful 
and  multiply  and  replenish  the  earth  and  subdue  it." 

2.  It  was  said  to  Adam,  "In  the  day  that  thou 
eatest  thereof  thou  shalt  surely  die."  He  ate,  and 
incurred  all  the  evil  which  sin  deserves ;  viz  :  death 
spiritual,  (or  abandonment  to  confirmed  and  total 
depravity,)  death  temporal,  and  death  eternal. 

3.  In  consequence  of  the  plan  of  grace  which 
was  immediately  introduced,  no  other  sentence  was 
formally  and  expressly  pronounced  on  Adam  than 
condemnation  to  temporal  pain  and  death.  This 
sentence  however  was  intended  publicly  to  denote 
a  just  exposure  to  spiritual  and  eternal  death. 

4.  In  this  sentence  of  condemnation  to  temporal 
pain  and  death,  both  Scripture  and  experience  show 
that  the  posterity  of  Adam  share.  "  Unto  the  wo- 
man he  said,  I  will  greatly  multiply  thy  sorrow  and 
thy  conception:  in  sorrow  thou  shalt  bring  forth 
children ;  and  thy  desire  shall  be  to  thy  husband, 
and  he  shall  rule  over  thee.  And  unto  Adam  he 
said.  Because  thou  hast  hearkened  unto  the  voice 
of  thy  wife,  and  hast  eaten  of  the  tree  of  which  I 
commanded  thee,  saying.  Thou  shalt  not  eat  of  it ; 
cursed  is  the  ground  for  thy  sake :  in  sorrow  shalt 
thou  eat  of  it  all  the  days  of  thy  life.  Thorns  also 
and  thistles  shall  it  bring  forth  to  thee,  and  thou 


308  ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD. 

shalt  eat  the  herb  of  the  field.  In  the  sweat  of  thy 
face  shalt  thou  eat  bread,  till  thou  return  unto  the 
ground :  for  out  of  it  wast  thou  taken ;  for  dust 
thou  art  and  unto  dust  shalt  thou  return."  Who 
does  not  see  that  this  sentence  was  pronounced  on 
the  whole  human  family,  by  being  pronounced  on 
Adam  their  federal  head?  By  this  sentence  it  was 
"  appointed  unto  men"  in  general  "  once  to  die." 
That  the  transgression  of  Adam  and  Eve  entailed 
on  their  posterity  the  temporal  calamities  contained 
in  this  sentence,  is  taken  for  granted  in  Paul's  first 
Epistle  to  Timothy.*  In  his  first  Epistle  to  the 
Corinthians,  he  draws  a  parallel  between  Adam  and 
Christ,  so  far  as  relates  to  their  respective  influence 
on  the  body  ;  saying  that  "  as  in  Adam  all  die"  a 
natural  death,  "  even  so  in  Christ  shall  all  be  made 
alive,"  or  delivered  from  natural  death  in  the  resur- 
rection-t  He  states  also  in  the  same  chapter,^  that 
"  as  we  have,"  in  the  fashion  of  our  bodies,  "  borne 
the  image  of  the  earthy,"  or  the  first  Adam,  so  in 
the  resurrection  the  bodies  of  the  saints  will  "  bear 
the  image  of  the  heavenly,"  who  is  expressly  called 
"  the  last  Adam." 

That  the  posterity  of  Adam  share  in  this  con- 
demnation of  their  federal  head  to  temporal  death, 
our  text  most  explicitly  asserts.  "  By  one  man  sin 
entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin ;  and  so 
death  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that  all  have  sinned. 
For  until  the  law  sin  was  in  the  world  ;  but  sin  is 
not  imputed  when  there  is  no  law.  Nevertheless 
death  reigned  from  Adam  to  Moses,  even  over  them 

*  Chap.  ii.  12-15.  t  Chap.  xv.  22.  t  Ver.  45-49. 


ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD.  309 

that  had  not  sinned  after  the  simiHtude  of  Adam's 
transgression,  who  is  the  figure  of  him  that  was  to 
come." 

This  passage  plainly  proves  also  that  condemna- 
tion to  temporal  death  evinces  the  existence  of  per- 
sonal sin  ;  and  a  single  sin  entitles  to  spiritual  and 
eternal  death.  "  By  one  man  sin  entered  into  the 
world,  and  death  by  sin  ;  and  so  death  passed  upon 
all  men,  for  that  all  have  sinned.''^ 

5.  It  abundantly  appears,  independently  of  our 
text,  that  all  mankind  derive  depravity  from  Adam, 
who  after  the  fall  begat  children  "  in  his  own  like- 
ness." The  Scriptures  clearly  teach  that  men  by 
nature  are  universally  and  totally  depraved,  and 
that  this  depravity  is  hereditary  and  traceable  to  the 
first  pair  as  the  source."  "  I  was  shapen  in  iniquity 
and  in  sin  did  my  mother  conceive  me."  "  That 
which  is  born  of  the  flesh  is  flesh."  "  Who  can 
bring  a  clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean  ?"  "  Lo  this 
only  have  I  found,  that  God  hath  made  man  up- 
right, but  they  have  sought  out  many  inventions." 
Here  the  original  righteousness  inherent  in  our  first 
parents,  and  the  sins  of  successive  generations,  are 
considered  the  original  righteousness  and  sins  of  the 
species;  which  shows  that  the  species  lost  their 
original  righteousness  and  fell  by  the  fall  of  Adam. 
The  Scriptures  teach  us  the  necessity  of  being 
"  horn  again,''^  of  being  "  created  in  Christ  Jesus ;" 
which  imply  that  our  first  birth  and  creation  intro- 
duced us  into  a  state  of  depravity. 

6.  It  appears,  independently  of  our  text,  that  all 
men  are  "  by  nature  the  children  of  wrath."    In- 


310  ADAM    OUR   FEDERAL    HEAD. 

fants  then  are  the  children  of  wrath.  This,  you 
say,  is  punishing  them  for  the  nature  which  God 
created ;  and  you  add,  that  a  nature  cannot  be  sin- 
ful, because  it  is  physical  and  not  moral.  But  Du- 
gald  Stewart  very  properly  speaks  of  "  the  physical 
and  moral  laws  of  nature."  One  of  the  definitions 
of  nature  given  by  Johnson  is,  "  disposition  of 
mind."  If  nature  is  considered  the  antecedent  and 
cause  of  exercises,  it  is  indeed  difficult  to  be  ex- 
plained, whether  the  exercises  are  physical  or  mo- 
ral. What  that  is  in  the  lion  before  he  hungers  for 
flesh,  which  leads  him  to  desire  flesh,  and  flesh  ra- 
ther than  grass,  we  no  more  can  tell,  than  what  it 
is  in  the  infant  that  leads  to  depraved  exercises. 
And  yet  there  is  a  meaning  when  we  speak  of  the 
nature  of  a  new  yeaned  lamb  as  diflering  from  that 
of  a  lion  just  brought  forth.  Is  that  nature  the, 
mere  mode  of  exercise,  and  not  the  cause  ?  When 
we  say,  it  is  the  nature  of  the  horse  to  eat  grass 
and  of  the  lion  to  eat  flesh,  the  word  means,  horn 
with  a  constitution  which  inclines  unfailingly  to  grass 
or  flesh.  The  difference  in  the  two  natures  in  this 
case  perhaps  wholly  grows  out  of  a  material  con- 
stitution and  depends  on  the  laws  of  matter.  But 
is  there  nothing  in  the  soul  anterior,  in  the  order  of 
nature,  to  exercise  ?  Yes,  the  whole  that  we  mean 
by  soul  is  anterior,  just  as  the  whole  that  we  mean 
by  man  is  anterior  to  his  action.  And  is  there  no- 
thing in  the  disposition  which  is  anterior  and  causal  ? 
When  we  say.  It  is  the  disposition  of  a  bad  man  to 
interfere  with  the  rights  of  others,  do  we  not  refer 
to  something  anterior  to  the  interference,  and  some- 


ADAM    OUR    FEDERAL    HEAD.  311 

thing  distinct  from  exercises,  and  which  may  be 
supposed  to  exist  when  he  is  asleep  ?  Do  we  refer 
merely  to  the  stated  mode  of  operation  ?  Have  we 
not  the  same  evidence  of  a  causal  disposition,  dif- 
fering in  different  men,  that  we  have  of  a  causal 
nature  differing  in  the  young  lamb  and  lion  ?  But 
still  what  there  is  in  the  infant,  with  its  want  of 
light,  that  is  sinful,  is  more  than  w^e  can  tell.  It 
certainly  has  self-love.  Prick  it,  and  its  crying 
tells  you  that  it  hates  pain.  Take  away  the  breast, 
and  its  crying  tells  you  that  it  loves  pleasure.  How 
far  it  is  capable  of  loving  God  or  man,  so  as  to 
prevent  self-love  from  running  into  selfishness,  I 
will  not  pronounce.  God  said  to  Jeremiah,  "  Be- 
fore thou  camest  forth  out  of  the  womb,  I  sancti- 
fied thee."  As  soon  as  Mary  saluted  Elizabeth, 
"  the  babe"  of  the  latter,  (John  the  baptist,)  "  leaped 
in"  her  "  womb  for  joy."  Now  can  you  be  sure 
that  there  was  nothing  in  the  infant  Jeremiah  or 
John  or  Jesus,  different  from  what  was  found  in  the 
infant  Cain  and  Judas  and  Herod  ?  Our  brethren 
on  the  other  side  admit  that  the  child  is  sure  to  run 
into  sin  as  soon  as  it  is  capable  of  moral  feelings. 
For  before  it  has  had  one  feeling  it  is  sure  to  exer- 
cise self-love,  which  in  the  absence  of  better  feel- 
ings will  of  course  become  selfishness.  Abandoned 
of  the  Spirit,  it  is  born  therefore  with  a  nature 
sure  to  sin  and  to  do  nothing  but  sin.  Is  not  this 
aptitude  wrong  ?  Is  there  nothing  to  be  abhorred  in 
the  thief  or  murderer  when  he  is  asleep  ?  If  a 
creature  is  prepared  and  sure  to  hate  God  as  soon 
as  God  is  seen,  can  we  be  certain  that  God  cannot 


312  ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD. 

justly  throw  that  creature  away  as  worthless  and 
guilty,  without  giving  him,  in  this  world,  an  op- 
portunity to  increase  his  guilt  by  seeing  him? 
Without  revelation  we  might  deny  the  justice  of 
this  ;  but  when  God  has  proclaimed  the  justice  of 
sending  infants  to  hell,  we  must  not  be  confident  of 
any  such  thing.     Still  it  is  a  mystery. 

Do  you  say,  this  fastening  of  blame  to  the  nature 
is  making  God  the  author  of  sin  ?  All  that  he  does, 
suppose,  in  forming  this  nature,  is  to  create  and  sup- 
port the  faculties  and  merely  to  withhold  the  Spirit. 
There  is  no  need  of  putting  sin  in.  Withhold  the 
influence  that  produces  supreme  love  to  God,  and 
I  love  myself  supremely,  and  am  totally  depraved. 
If  the  captain  is  dead  the  lieutenant  commands  of 
course  without  a  new  election. 

But  whatever  mystery  hangs  about  the  moral  state 
of  the  infant  mind,  one  thing  is  certain  :  none  of  the 
posterity  of  Adam  are  saved  but  by  Christ.  "  Nei- 
ther is  there  salvation  in  any  other :  for  there  is 
none  other  name  under  heaven  given  among  men 
whereby  we  must  be  saved."  But  if  infants  are 
saved  by  Christ,  they  might  justly  be  sent  to  hell. 
Here  I  plant  my  foot.  Do  you  say  that  they  have 
no  part  in  Christ,  and  that  those  who  die  in  infancy 
are  neither  saved  by  him  nor  sent  to  hell,  but  are 
annihilated?  Take  care  what  you  say.  "And 
they  brought  young  children  to  him  that  he  should 
touch  them ;  and  his  disciples  rebuked  those  that 
brought  them.  But  when  Jesus  saw  it  he  was  much 
displeased,  and  said  unto  them.  Suffer  the  little 
children  to  come  unto  me  and  forbid  them  not,  for 


ADAM    OUR    FEDERAL    HEAD.  313 

such  is  the  kingdom  of  God,''''  If  your  infant  child- 
ren need  not  a  Saviour  why  bring  them  to  him  in 
baptism  ?  and  if  they  are  not  polluted,  why  wash 
them  with  water?  Now  if  infants  are  saved  by 
Christ,  they  are  saved  by  grace  and  not  by  justice. 
Justice  did  not  compel  God  to  provide  a  Saviour ; 
which  would  be  true  if  any  who  are  saved  by  Christ 
are  saved  by  justice.  But  all  who  are  saved  by 
grace  might  be  sent  to  hell  by  justice.  If  I  lay  on 
your  table  a  sum  of  money,  it  cannot  be  both  a  pre- 
sent and  the  payment  of  a  debt.  One  idea  neces- 
sarily excludes  the  other.  If  God  had  not  provided 
a  Saviour,  all  Adam's  race  would  have  gone  to  hell, 
however  short  or  long  their  stay  on  earth  ;  and  this 
would  have  been  known  to  be  the  destiny  of  the  in- 
fant in  the  cradle.  Surely  then  justice  has  not  pre- 
vented this. 

On  the  whole  we  must  conclude  that  infants  might 
justly  be  sent  to  hell.  We  do  not  come  to  this  con- 
clusion from  reason,  but  from  the  revelation  of  God. 
Whatever  our  blinded  reason  may  say  about  so 
mysterious  a  matter,  we  must  bow  in  submission  to 
the  decision  of  God. 

Now  do  not  go  away  and  say  that  I  have  preach- 
ed that  there  are  infants  in  hell  of  a  span  long.  I 
am  not  sure  that  I  have  a  right  to  offer,  or  even  to 
form,  an  opinion  on  this  subject.  It  may  be  human 
weakness,  but  I  cannot  help  hoping  that  all  infants 
will  be  saved,  notwithstanding  what  I  am  forced  to 
say  about  the  requisitions  of  justice.  And  I  found 
the  hope  on  two  considerations.  First,  the  imme- 
diate object  of  punishment  is  to  convince  others 

Vol.  I.  40 


314  ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD. 

that  if  they  sin  they  must  suffer :  but  infants  can- 
not be  impressed  with  this  truth  by  the  punishment 
of  infants ;  and  adults  are  sufficiently  impressed  by 
the  punishment  of  adults.  The  punishment  there- 
fore does  not  appear  to  be  so  absolutely  necessary 
as  in  other  cases.  Secondly,  by  appointing  a  day 
for  the  "revelation  of  the  righteous  judgment  of 
God,"  he  seems  desirous  to  show  creatures  the  rea- 
sonableness of  his  measures :  and  it  now  seems  as 
if  it  would  be  easier  to  make  this  impression  on 
creation  if  he  did  not  make  creatures  and  send  them 
to  hell  before  they  knew  their  right  hand  from  their 
left. 

II.  I  am  to  consider  the  federal  headship  treated 
of  in  the  text. 

There  is  no  intimation  in  the  Bible  that  we  are 
condemned  for  Adam's  heart.  In  consequence  of 
the  union  of  character  established  between  him  and 
his  posterity  by  what  may  be  called  the  constitution 
of  nature,  by  means  of  which  his  outward  act  in- 
dicated their  temper  as  much  as  his  own ;  that  act 
is  made  the  ground  of  their  public  condemnation, 
as  though  it  had  been  their  own  act;  for  it  really 
manifested  their  temper  as  though  it  had  been  their 
own.  This,  if  true,  proves  at  once  two  things  ; 
first,  Adam's  federal  headship ;  secondly,  the  real 
condemnation  of  his  whole  infant  race  to  temporal, 
spiritual,  and  eternal  death,  on  account  of  the  de- 
pravity of  their  hearts,  manifested  by  this  public 
act  of  their  federal  head. 

It  is  declared  in  our  text  that  "  through  the  of- 
fence of  one  many  be  dead,"  (that  is,  condemned 


ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD.  315 

to  the  complicated  death  which  in  the  next  chapter 
is  put  for  "  the  wages  of  sin ;")  that  "  by  one " 
man  "  that  sinned — the  judgment  was  by  one  "  of- 
fence "  to  condemnation ;"  that  "  by  one  man's  of- 
fence death,"  (the same comphcated death,)  "reign- 
ed by  one ;"  that  "  by  the  offence  of  one  judgment 
came  upon  all  men  to  condemnation^''''  even  as  "by 
the  righteousness  of  one  the  free  gift  came  upon  all 
men  unto  justification  of  life ;"  that  "  by  one  man's 
disobedience  many  were  made  sinners,"  even  as 
"by  the  obedience  of  one  shall  many  be  made 
righteous." 

The  parallel  between  the  first  and  "  last  Adam" 
is  not  perfect  in  all  respects.  By  our  connexion 
with  the  first  Adam  we  are  condemned  for  orie  sin, 
"but  the  free  gift  is  of  many  oflfences  unto  justifica- 
tion." In  the  first  case,  the  ground  of  condemna- 
tion was  an  outward  act,  in  the  latter  case  the  right- 
eousness by  which  we  are  justified  went  through 
the  whole  heart  and  life.  In  the  first  case  we  per- 
sonally deserve  the  condemnation  we  receive,  in 
the  latter  case  we  deserve  nothing.  But  the  fol- 
lowing are  the  points  of  resemblance. 

1.  By  a  covenant  transaction  between  the  Father 
and  Son,  called  the  covenant  of  redemption,  the 
seed  of  Christ  were  from  eternity  elected  or  ap- 
pointed to  a  state  of  justification.  To  comport 
with  this,  the  posterity  of  Adam,  in  consequence  of 
a  covenant  transaction  between  God  and  their  fe- 
deral head,  were,  before  they  were  born,  appointed 
to  a  state  of  condemnation. 

2.  The  seed  of  Christ,  though  previously  elected, 


316  ADAM    OUR    FEDERAL    HEAD. 

are  not  actually  justified  before  they  become  his 
seed  by  regeneration.  The  doctrine  of  justifica- 
tion from  eternity  is  generally  and  justly  exploded. 
To  comport  with  this,  the  posterity  of  Adam,  though 
previously  appointed  to  a  state  of  condemnation, 
are  not  actually  condemned  until  they  exist  his  seed, 
and  therefore  not  until  they  are  "  shapen  in  iniqui- 
ty "  and  conceived  "  in  sin."  The  seed  of  Christ 
were  not  all  justified  as  early  as  his  obedience  was 
performed,  nor  as  early  as  he  himself  was  justified 
by  being  raised  from  the  dead.  And  the  posterity 
of  Adam  were  not  condemned  as  early  as  his  of- 
fence was  committed,  nor  as  early  as  he  himself 
was  condemned. 

3.  The  first  holy  bias  which  is  given  to  the  seed 
of  Christ  in  regeneration,  is  not  the  effect  but  the 
antecedent  of  their  justification  ;  for  they  are  "jus- 
tified by  faith "  already  in  exercise.  To  comport 
with  this,  the  first  evil  bias  which  the  posterity  of 
Adam  feel,  is  not  the  eflfect  but  the  antecedent  of 
their  condemnation.  The  condemnation  spoken  of 
in  the  text  was  not  a  sentence  dooming  them  to  be 
"  shapen  in  iniquity "  and  conceived  "  in  sin." 
Their  first  evil  bias  is  not  the  eff'ect  of  their  con- 
demnation, but  the  eflfect  of  the  constitution  of  na- 
ture which  God  established  in  his  covenant  trans- 
action with  Adam ;  by  which  it  was  fixed  that  all 
the  posterity  of  Adam,  as  soon  as  they  should  exist, 
would  resemble  him  in  moral  character,  whether  he 
stood  or  fell.  This  President  Edwards  calls  a  con- 
stituted union  of  moral  character,  which  he  illustrates 
by  a  constituted  union  of  nature  between  the  root 


ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD.  317 

and  branches  of  a  tree,  and  between  the  head  and 
members  of  the  body. 

That  this  constituted  union  of  moral  character 
is  wholly  different  from  a  sentence  of  condemna- 
tion, appears  from  its  having  been  settled  before 
any  condemnation  was  merited.  Before  the  fall  it 
was  established  by  the  constitution  of  God  that  the 
holiness  of  Adam  if  he  stood,  and  the  sin  of  Adam 
if  he  fell,  should  be  conveyed  to  his  posterity  by 
natural  generation.  When  he  fell,  his  whole  sys- 
tem became  polluted ;  and  he  propagated  the  pollu- 
tion by  the  same  established  constitution  of  nature 
by  which  an  acorn  produces  an  oak,  and  a  lion  pro- 
duces a  young  lion  wholly  like  himself  in  shape  and 
disposition.  This  is  the  settled  course  of  nature : 
but  a  judicial  sentence  of  condemnation  is  quite  a 
different  thing.  None  ever  called  the  constitution 
by  which  the  branches  of  a  thorn  bush  partake  of 
the  nature  of  the  root,  a  condemnation  of  the 
branches. 

Thus  it  appears  that  the  first  evil  bias  in  the  in- 
dividuals of  Adam's  race  is  no  part  of  the  evil  to 
which  they  are  condemned,  but  the  effect  of  a  con- 
stitution which  runs  through  every  department  of 
nature. 

4.  The  seed  of  Christ  are  justified  as  fully  and 
as  extensively  as  Christ  himself  was ;  being  entitled 
to  a  deliverance  from  the  power  of  temporal  death 
in  the  resurrection, — being  secured  in  a  course  of 
persevering  holiness  until  it  is  completed  in  everlast- 
ing spiritual  life, — and  being  unchangeably  entitled 
to  eternal  life.     To  comport  with  this,  the  poste- 


318  ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD. 

rity  of  Adam  are  condemned  as  fully  and  as  exten- 
sively as  Adam  himself  was.  He  was  not  condemn- 
ed to  the  first  sin ;  but  when  he  had  committed  that 
sin,  he  was  condemned  to  an  abandonment  to  total 
depravity,  which  was  spiritual  death :  he  was  con- 
demned also  to  death  temporal  and  death  eternal. 
In  like  manner  his  posterity,  though  they  are  not 
condemned  to  the  first  evil  bias,  yet  as  soon  as  they 
derive  their  polluted  existence  from  Adam,  are  con- 
demned to  established  and  total  depravity  or  spirit-, 
ual  death,   and  also  to  temporal  and  eternal  death. 

5.  The  essential  condition  on  which  the  seed  of 
Christ  share  in  his  justification,  is  that  they  resem- 
ble him  in  the  temper  of  their  hearts.  Indeed  it  is 
such  a  union  of  temper  that  constitutes  them  his 
seed.  To  comport  with  this,  it  is  the  essential 
condition  on  which  the  posterity  of  Adam  share  in. 
his  condemnation,  that  they  resemble  him  in  the 
temper  of  their  hearts.  Indeed  without  such  a 
union  of  temper  they  are  not  his  posterity  in  the 
covenant  sense. 

The  new  hirtJi  and  union  of  heart  to  Christ  are 
the  two  things  which  constitute  men  the  seed  of 
Christ ;  and  these  two  things  are  inseparable ;  for 
the  new  birth  lays  a  sure  foundation  for  immediate 
union  of  heart  to  Christ.  To  comport  with  this, 
the  first  birth,  or  conception,  and  union  of  heart  to 
Adam,  are  the  two  things  which  constitute  men  the 
posterity  of  Adam ;  and  these  two  things  are  inse- 
parable ;  for  the  first  birth,  or  conception,  uniform- 
ly lays  a  foundation  for  immediate  union  of  heart 
to  Adam. 


ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD.  3l9 

Thus  far  the  parallel  between  the  two  federal 
heads.  On  the  whole,  it  appears  that  Adam  him- 
self was  publicly  condemned,  not  for  his  wicked 
heart,  but  for  his  outward  act;  yet  he  was  con- 
demned for  that  outward  act  because  it  was  the  in- 
dex of  his  heart ;  for  had  he  performed  it  in  a  pa- 
roxysm of  madness,  he  would  not  have  been  con- 
demned for  it.  The  same  in  all  respects  may  be 
said  of  his  infant  posterity.  The  public  sentence 
against  them  is  not  expressly  grounded  on  their 
wicked  hearts,  but  on  that  outward  act  of  their  fe- 
deral head  which  fixed  and  revealed  their  temper. 
But  had  it  not  manifested  their  hearts,  no  sentence 
against  them  would  have  been  grounded  on  it. 

This  point  may  be  further  illustrated  by  suppos- 
ing a  flourishing  tree  with  many  branches.  The 
tree  is  now  wholesome  and  good,  but  is  known  to 
be  liable  to  become  poisonous ;  and  it  is  known 
that  in  case  of  such  a  change,  the  root  will  first  im- 
bibe the  poison,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  will 
communicate  it  to  all  the  branches.  At  the  moment 
the  root  imbibes  the  poison  which  changes  the 
whole  tree,  the  root  alone  sends  forth  a  nauseous 
exhalation,  distinctly  perceptible  by  the  senses; 
and  this  exhalation  from  the  root  is  the  only  evi- 
dence to  men  of  the  change  of  the  branches  from  a 
wholesome  to  a  poisonous  nature.  The  spectators 
condemn  the  whole  tree  on  account  of  that  exhala- 
tion from  the  root,  and  pluck  it  up,  root  and  branch, 
and  cast  it  into  the  fire.  Why  were  the  branches 
condemned  and  burnt  on  account  of  an  exhalation 
from  the  root?    Because  the   exhalation  was  as 


320  ADAM    OUR   FEDERAL    HEAD. 

much  an  evidence  of  their  poison  as  though  it  had 
proceeded  from  them. 

In  this  view  of  the  subject  I  am  supported  by  the 
more  general  voice  of  Calvinistic  divines  ever  since 
the  Reformation.  It  has  been  universally  held  by 
the  divines  of  the  Genevan  school,  the  head  quar- 
ters of  Calvinism,  (according  to  the  testimony  of 
Stapferus,  an  eminent  divine  of  the  same  country,) 
that  infants  are  not  condemned  independently  of 
the  pollution  of  their  nature.  And  Stapferus  him- 
self bitterly  complains  that  the  enemies  of  Calvin- 
ists  accuse  them  of  asserting  the  imputation  of 
i^dam's  sin  to  infants  while  they  are  viewed  in 
themselves  as  innocent.  Now  if  any  difficulty,  as 
to  the  mere  justice  of  their  condemnation,  is  reliev- 
ed by  bringing  in  their  depravity,  it  must  be  be- 
cause they  personally  deserve  condemnation.  If 
their  depravity  does  not  deserve  condemnation,  I 
see  not  that  any  difficulty  is  relieved,  in  regard  to 
mere  justice,  by  bringing  it  into  account. 

Before  I  dismiss  this  subject  I  will  add  the  fol- 
lowing remarks. 

1.  If  the  foregoing  representation  is  true,  it  is 
not  correct  to  say  that  infants  are  born  into  the 
world  with  a  double  guilt,  one  part  consisting  in 
Adam's  sin  and  the  other  in  their  own  depravity. 
As  well  might  you  say  that  the  personal  guilt  of 
Adam  is  double,  one  part  consisting  in  the  outward 
act  and  the  other  in  the  consent  of  his  heart. 

2.  If  the  foregoing  representation  is  true,  it  is 
not  correct  to  say  that  infants  deserve  eternal  death 
or  any  death  for  the  sin  of  Adam  singly  considered 


ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD.  321 

and  independent  of  their  own  depravity.  Adam 
himself  did  not  deserve  condemnation  for  his  out- 
ward act  independently  of  the  heart  from  which  it 
proceeded.  And  had  his  posterity  themselves  eat- 
en of  the  forbidden  fruit,  they  would  not  have  de- 
served condemnation  for  that  act  independently  of 
their  depraved  hearts, — for  example,  had  they  done 
it  in  a  paroxysm  of  madness. 

3.  We  may  now  answer  the  question  which  is 
sometimes  proposed,  whether  there  is  infiiiite  guilt 
attached  to  Adam's  sin  imputed.  I  say,  yes,  in  the 
same  sense  in  which  there  is  ariy  guilt  attached  to 
Adam's  sin  imputed.  The  question  amounts  to 
this  :  are  infants  condemned  to  eternal  death,  as 
well  as  to  temporal  death,  for  Adam's  sin  ?  This 
question  has  been  already  answered  in  the  affir- 
mative. But  if  the  question  be,  Is  there  infinite 
guilt  attached  to  Adam's  sin  imputed,  independently 
of  the  depravity  of  his  posterity  ;  I  say,  No :  for 
Adam's  sin  is  not  imputed,  in  any  sense  or  degree, 
independently  of  their  depravity;  any  more  than 
any  other  external  act  is  imputed  where  it  is  known 
to  be  no  expression  of  the  heart.  You  might  as 
well  inquire  whether  killing  a  man  has  infinite  guilt 
attached  to  it  independently  of  the  temper  which  it 
expressed. 

4.  If  the  foregoing  representation  is  true,  it  will 
completely  vindicate  the  character  of  God  in  con- 
demning a  world  of  infants  for  the  sin  of  their  fe- 
deral head.  For  I  think  it  will  follow  from  this  re- 
presentation, that  mankind  are  treated  no  more  se- 
verely than  they  might  justly  have  been  treated  if 

Vol.  I.  41 


322  ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD. 

Adam  had  not  been  their  federal  head.  There  are 
two  things  which  befall  them  in  consequence  of 
their  connexion  with  Adam.  First,  in  consequence 
of  the  constituted  union  of  character  between  them 
and  him,  they  are  born  depraved ;  secondly,  Adam's 
act  which  fixed  and  discovered  the  depravity  of 
their  hearts,  is  put  in  the  room  of  an  outward  act 
of  ;heir  own,  and  is  made  the  public  ground  of  their 
condemnation,  as  being  the  index  of  their  wicked 
hearts.  Now  I  think  that  they  might  have  been 
born  depraved,  and  might  have  been  condemned  as 
soon  as  born,  had  there  been  no  federal  head. 

First,  without  a  federal  head,  I  see  not  why 
they  might  not  justly  have  been  left  to  sink  into 
depravity  as  early  as  they  now  do.  Why  would 
not  this  have  been  as  just  as  the  leaving  of  the 
holy  angels  to  fall,  or  the  leaving  of  the  holy  Adam 
to  fall?  Abandonment  to  sin  immediately  after 
birth  or  conception,  certainly  appears  no  harder 
than  abandonment  to  sin  immediately  after  a  course 
of  holy  dispositions  and  actions.  That  holiness 
which  reigned  in  the  angels  and  in  the  soul  of 
Adam  the  moment  before  the  first  sin  entered,  did 
not  merit  such  a  desertion.  They  were  not  de- 
serted therefore  by  way  of  punishment,  but  by  a 
sovereign  act  of  God.  And  the  abandonment  of  in- 
fants to  the  first  evil  bias  is  not  the  consequence  of 
their  condemnation,  but  antecedent  to  it,  and  there- 
fore cannot  be  viewed  in  the  light  of  a  punishment. 
And  whatever  is  not  a  punishment,  might  justly 
have  been  brought  upon  them  had  there  been  no 
previous  sin  in  the  universe.    The  union  of  their 


ADAM    OUR    FEDERAL    HEAD,  323 

character  with  that  of  Adam  was  no  token  of  God's 
displeasure  ;  for  that  union  was  constituted  before 
Adam  sinned.  The  fall  of  infants  therefore,  equally 
with  that  of  the  angels  and  of  Adam,  must  be  re- 
solved into  the  sovereign  constitution  of  God. 
Though  wisdom  has  seen  fit  to  make  the  depravity 
of  infants  the  consequence  of  their  connexion  with 
a  federal  head,  yet  for  aught  that  appears,  justice 
might  have  suffered  it  without  any  such  connexion. 
Secondly,  if  infiints  might  have  been  justly  born 
depraved  without  a  federal  head,  certainly  they 
might  have  been  justly  condemned  for  their  depra- 
vity without  a  federal  head.  As  it  now  is,  they  are 
not  condemned  for  the  sin  of  Adam  without  being 
personally  deserving  of  condemnation  on  their  own 
account  in  the  sight  of  God.  And  had  God  been 
pleased  to  act  before  creatures  without  evidence  of 
his  justice,  he  might  have  grounded  their  public 
condemnation  on  the  mere  depravity  of  their  hearts. 
It  cannot  be  pretended  that  the  Searcher  of  hearts 
is  obliged  m  justice  to  ground  the  condemnation  of 
sinners  on  visible  conduct.  All  the  end  that  seems 
to  be  proposed  in  bringing  in  the  outward  conduct 
of  Adam  as  the  ground  of  publicly  condemning  his 
infant  race,  is  that  their  condemnation  may  rest  on 
visible  conduct.  But  it  is  not  a  necessary  act  o(  jus- 
tice, it  is  a  mere  act  of  goodness  and  of  condescension 
to  the  weakness  of  creatures^  to  rest  their  condemna- 
tion on  visible  conduct.  The  bringing  in  of  Adam's 
act  as  the  public  ground  of  condemning  depraved 
infants,  (who  are  themselves  worthy  of  condemna- 
tion in  the  sight  of  God,)  is,  therefore,  notwith- 


324  ADAM  OUR  FEDERAL  HEAD. 

Standing  all  the  cry  that  has  been  raised  against  it, 
a  mere  act  of  goodness  and  of  condescension  to  the 
weakness  of  creatures, — intended  also,  as  I  sup- 
pose, to  open  and  illustrate  that  federal  course 
which  was  to  be  pursued  in  the  case  of  "  the  last 
Adam."  It  is  only  condemning  sinful  creatures  on 
a  public  and  visible  ground,  who  were  entitled  to 
condemnation  for  the  hidden  depravity  of  their 
hearts. 

I  think  it  appears  therefore  that  mankind  are 
treated  no  worse  than  they  might  justly  have  been 
treated  if  Adam  had  not  been  their  federal  head. 
And  I  am  persuaded  that  not  only  justice  but  good- 
ness appears  in  that  constitution  which  God  made 
for  the  human  race.  And  when  we  consider  it  as  a 
glorious  preparation  for  the  work  and  exhibition  of 
"  the  last  Adam,"  we  have  reason  to  conclude  that 
heaven  will  forever  ring  with  acknowledgments  of 
that  federal  system  for  our  world,  whose  foundation 
was  laid  in  Eden,  and  whose  top  reaches  to  Mount 
Calvary  and  to  the  heights  of  the  Lamb  enthroned. 


SERMON  IV. 


THE  ABOMINABLE  NATURE  OF  SIN. 


Jee.  xliv.  4. 


Howbeit  I  sent  unto  you  all  my  servants  the  prophets,  rising  early  and 
sending  them,  saying,  0  do  not  this  abominable  thing  that  I  hate. 

It  is  impossible  for  any  man  to  form  an  exagge- 
rated opinion  of  his  own  guilt.  This  is  evident  from 
a  single  consideration.  Every  sin  deserves  eternal 
death,  according  to  the  plain  decision  of  the  divine 
law.  But  no  finite  mind  can  comprehend,  much 
less  overrate,  that  guilt  which  deserves  everlasting 
burnings.  We  may  confine  our  views  too  much  to 
sin,  and  exclude  a  sense  of  mercy,  and  thus  sink 
into  gloom.  This  is  a  fault.  But  no  man  can  pos- 
sibly overrate  his  guilt.  Here  he  may  give  full  lati- 
tude to  his  convictions  and  still  fall  infinitely  short 
of  the  mark.  To  these  reflections  I  am  led  by  that 
pathetic  burst  of  entreaty  and  indignation  which  ap- 
pears in  the  text.  God  had  long  labored  with  the  - 
Jewish  nation,  and  they  had  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 


326  THE    ABOMINABLE 

all  his  entreaties.  At  length  he  sent  Nebuchadnez- 
zar against  them,  who  destroyed  their  temple  and 
cities,  and  carried  the  mass  of  the  people  to  Baby- 
lon. The  few  that  were  left  took  Jeremiah  and  re- 
moved with  him  to  Egypt.  There  the  prophet  re- 
ceived a  commission  from  heaven  to  renew  his  ex- 
postulations with  that  stubborn  people,  and  to  call 
their  attention  once  more  to  the  reasons  of  the  di- 
vine conduct  towards  them.  After  charging  them 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord  with  their  sins,  particularly 
their  idolatry,  he  subjoins  the  words  which  I  have 
read :  "  Howbeit  I  sent  unto  you  all  my  servants 
the  prophets,  rising  early  and  sending  them,  saying, 
O  do  not  this  abominable  thing  that  I  hate."  By 
the  abominable  thing  was  meant  idolatry;  but  the 
same  may  be  said  of  every  sin. 

The  doctrine  then  which  we  may  draw  from  the 
text  is  this,  that  sin  is  the  abominable  thing  which  God 
hales.  It  will  be  my  object  to  illustrate  and  apply 
this  doctrine.  That  sin  is  abominable  to  God  ap- 
pears, 

I.  From  the  nature  of  things. 

II.  From  the  expressions  he  has  made  of  that  ab- 
horrence. 

I.  From  the  nature  of  things.  Sin  is  directly 
opposed  to  all  the  wishes  and  designs  of  God. 
"God  is  love."  The  object  which  he  pursues  with 
infinite  desire,  and  indeed  his  only  object,  is  to 
raise  an  immense  kingdom  of  creatures  to  the  high- 
est eternal  happiness,  and  to  enjoy  himself  the  bless- 
edness which  he  imparts.  In  order  for  this  they 
must  possess  the  same  love  that  he  does,  and  be 


NATURE    OF    SIN.  327 

formed  into  an  orderly  kingdom,  owning  him  for 
their  Head  and  submitting  affectionately  to  his  do- 
minion. To  accomplish  these  ends  he  has  issued  a 
law,  requiring  them  to  love  him  with  all  the  heart  and 
their  neighbor  as  themselves,  and  to  express  this 
temper  in  all  their  words  and  actions.  The  parti- 
cular forms  of  conduct  which  are  calculated  to  pro- 
mote their  mutual  happiness,  and  which  are  there- 
fore expressive  of  love,  are  marked  out  in  the  de- 
tails of  his  law,  whose  grand  object  it  is  to  secure  a 
united,  harmonious,  and  happy  kingdom.  He  has 
left  nothing  unforbidden  which  is  contrary  to  the 
good  of  the  universe,  and  has  tolerated  no  hostile 
principle  by  silence.  His  law  of  course  is  the  uni- 
versal standard  of  right. 

Now  sin  consists  in  that  dissociating  principle 
which  sets  up  a  private  interest  against  the  public 
good.  It  splits  up  the  universe  into  contending 
units ;  and  that  which  was  a  kingdom  of  love  and 
blessedness  is  now  a  hell.  Though  the  social  af- 
fections may  sometimes  set  up  the  interest  of  a  pri- 
vate circle  in  opposition  to  the  public  good,  the  chief 
thing  that  is  arrayed  against  the  universe  is  self- 
interest.  The  grand  root  of  sin  is  inordinate  self- 
love.  Out  of  this  arises  pride  and  all  those  malig- 
nant passions  which  set  themselves  to  defend  our 
own  name  or  estate.  Out  of  this  arises  that  undue 
regard  to  personal  gratification  which  shows  itself 
in  the  idolatrous  love  of  the  world, — which  shows 
itself  in  all  those  indulgencies  which  imbrute  the 
man, — which  shows  itself  in  all  the  crimes  committed 
against  society.    Out  of  this  arises  the  strenuous 


THE    ABOMINABLE 


opposition  which  the  carnal  heart  makes  to  the  di- 
vine law,  and  all  the  enmity  which  on  that  account 
it  feels  towards  God.  In  short,  out  of  selfishness, 
and  other  affections  which  brood  over  a  limited  in- 
terest, arise  all  those  malignant  passions  which 
hurry  men  and  devils  into  war  against  heaven,  and 
constitute  all  the  sin  of  earth  and  hell.  Sin  is  thus 
the  struggle  of  a  private  interest  against  the  public 
good ;  and  because  it  meets  with  opposition  from 
God,  it  becomes  his  malignant  enemy.  It  com- 
pletely disjoints  the  universe,  and,  when  it  is  mere 
selfishness,  it  arms  each  man  against  all  other  be- 
ings. In  every  motion  it  breaks  in  upon  the  order 
which  the  divine  law  has  estabhshed.  It  cannot  be 
sin  without  violating  that  order ;  for  the  very  defi- 
nition of  sin  is,  that  it  is  "  the  transgression  of  the 
law."  Sin  and  transgression  are  synonymous  terms. 
As  nothing  is  morally  good  which  does  not  conform 
to  the  divine  law,  so  nothing  is  morally  evil  which 
does  not  violate  that  system  of  precepts. 

This  being  the  nature  of  sin,  it  is  manifestly  the 
enemy  of  public  order  and  happiness,  and  therefore 
infinitely  offensive  to  the  God  of  love,  and  contrary 
to  all  that  he  has  prescribed  for  the  happiness  of 
his  kingdom,  and  to  all  the  wishes  and  designs  of 
his  benevolence.  As  the  Friend  and  Guardian  of 
the  universe,  he  must  of  course  abhor  and  proscribe 
and  punish  sin.  He  must  pursue  it  with  infinite  in- 
dignation as  the  disturber  of  the  peace  of  his  king- 
dom, the  traitor  and  conspirator  against  his  go- 
vernment, the  implacable  foe  of  every  thing  dear  to 
his  heart.     The  benevolent  Father  of  the  universe 


NATURE    OP    SIN.  329 

cannot  but  hate  such  an  enemy  with  infinite  detes- 
tation. It  is  love  that  abominates  it,  and  infinite 
love  must  hold  it  in  infinite  abhorrence. 

Sin  not  only  disturbs  the  public  peace  by  being 
itself  the  death  of  happiness, — not  only  by  rebel- 
ling against  God  in  the  character  of  a  Lawgiver, — 
but  it  opposes  him  in  all  the  relations  in  which  he 
acts  for  the  good  of  his  creatures.  Has  he  created 
a  world  and  assumed  the  relation  of  a  Father  ?  Sin 
refuses  to  acknowledge  him  as  a  Parent.  Has  he 
taken  upon  himself  the  oflice  of  providential  Go- 
vernor? Sin  would  take  the  management  of  the 
world  out  of  his  hands.  Has  he  undertaken  the 
work  of  a  Saviour  ?  Sin  refuses  to  receive  him  in 
that  character.  In  whatever  office  he  acts  for  the 
happiness  of  his  creatures,  sin  sets  itself  to  oppose 
him.  He  cannot  make  a  motion  to  gratify  his  love, 
but  sin  instantly  moves  to  resist  his  purpose.  Can 
it  be  otherwise  than  that  he  should  hate  such  an 
enemy  with  the  whole  strength  of  his  nature  ?  That 
this  is  the  case  I  am  to  show, 

II.  From  the  expressions  which  he  has  made  of 
this  abhorrence. 

1.  In  the  penalty  which  he  has  annexed  to  his 
law.  This  is  nothing  less  than  an  eternal  exclusion 
from  all  good  and  the  eternal  endurance  of  all  evil. 
"  The  wages  of  sin  is  death."  This  death  is  ex- 
plained to  be  the  endurance  of  eternal  and  unut- 
terable torments.  This  endless  and  therefore  in- 
finite evil  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  exact  measure  of 
God's  abhorrence  of  sin.  The  threat  of  this  in- 
fliction is  not  the  effusion  of  a  transient  feeling ;  it 
Vol.  I.  42 


330  THE    ABOMINABLE 

is  with  great  solemnity  incorporated  with  the  pub- 
lic law  of  his  empire ;  which  we  are  taught  to  re- 
gard, not  only  as  the  great  standard  of  right,  but 
as  the  deliberate  and  unchangeable  expression  of 
his  heart :  and  we  are  assured  that  "  heaven  and 
earth  shall  pass"  away  before  "  one  jot  or  one 
tittle"  of  that  law  shall  fail. 

2.  In  his  providential  government. 

When  the  angels  sinned,  those  eldest  sons  of 
God,  not  all  his  love  for  his  first  born  sons,  not  all 
the  dignity  of  their  nature,  could  save  them.  He 
hurled  them  from  heaven  and  locked  them  up  in  the 
prison  of  eternal  despair.  When  our  first  parents 
sinned,  he  turned  them  out  of  Eden,  turned  this 
beautiful  world  into  a  wilderness  of  thorns,  depo- 
sited his  curse  in  the  ground,  lodged  it  in  the  blood 
of  man,  and  entailed  upon  hundreds  of  generations 
sorrow  and  disease  and  death.  When  the  earth  be- 
came filled  with  violence,  he  loathed  it,  and,  (to  use 
a  strong  eastern  figure,)  "  repented — that  he  had 
made  man,"  and  he  swept  the  world  with  a  flood. 
When  the  inhabitants  of  the  vale  of  Siddim  had 
corrupted  their  ways  beyond  endurance,  he  rained 
fire  from  heaven  upon  them  and  hid  the  very  ground 
which  they  had  polluted  under  the  waters  of  the 
Dead  Sea.  When  Egypt  rebelled,  he  lashed  her 
with  ten  successive  plagues,  and  at  last  buried  her 
king  and  ail  her  glory  in  a  watery  grave.  When 
Israel  rebelled  in  the  wilderness,  did  he  spare  the 
favorite  race  whom  he  had  gone  down  into  Egypt 
to  redeem  ?  At  one  time  he  brought  upon  them  the 
heathen,  then  fiery  serpents.    Now  fire  from  heaven 


NATURE    OF    SIN.  331 

devoured  them,  then  the  ground  opened  and  swal- 
lowed them  up ;  and  at  last  he  swore  by  his  holi- 
ness that,  with  two  exceptions,  all  the  adults  should 
drop  their  carcases  in  the  wilderness.  During  the 
fifteen  centuries  that  the  posterity  of  Abraham  pos- 
sessed the  promised  land,  his  providence  was  al- 
most a  constant  remembrancer  of  his  hatred  of  sin. 
Though  they  were  his  beloved  family,  whenever 
they  openly  sinned  he  would  wound  them  "  with  the 
wound  of  an  enemy,  with  the  chastisement  of  a  cruel 
one."  He  often  gave  them  into  the  hands  of  the 
heathen.  He  blotted  out  the  name  of  ten  of  the 
tribes  from  under  heaven.  He  sent  the  rest  to  Ba- 
bylon. He  gave  them  at  last  into  the  hands  of  the 
Romans,  who  strewed  their  native  mountains  with 
their  bones,  and  drove  out  the  rest  to  wander  as  va- 
gabonds through  the  world. 

It  was  the  anger  of  God  against  sin  which  de- 
stroyed Ninevah  and  Babylon  and  Tyre,  and  Edom 
and  Moab  and  the  Philistines.  It  is  this  which  has 
covered  the  earth  with  blood  and  turned  it  into  one 
vast  prison-house  in  which  little  else  is  heard  but 
the  groanings  of  the  prisoners.  There  never  was  a 
pain  that  was  not  caused  by  sin.  Collect  all  the 
sufferings  of  six  thousand  years,  and  the  whole  is 
but  a  faint  expression  of  God's  indignation  against 
sin.  The  rear  of  all  is  brought  up  by  death.  See 
that  beauteous  frame  dissolved, — that  masterpiece 
of  divine  art, — that  mechanism  which  seemed  in- 
tended to  lodge  a  deathless  angel.  See  the  ago- 
nies of  dissolving  nature.  See  the  offensive  mass 
a  few  days  after.    And  is  the  glory  of  man  reduced 


332  THE    ABOMINABLE 

to  this  !*     Has  sin  thus  unmade  the  noblest  work  of 
God  ?     The  grave  yards,  the  vaults  stored  with  hu- 
man bones,  the  ashes  of  a  hundred  generations, 
proclaim  the  anger  of  God  against  sin.     "  By  one 
man  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin, 
and  so  death  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that  all  have 
sinned."     In  every  death  you  see  a  criminal  exe- 
cuted according  to  the  sentence  of  the  divine  law. 
Here  mortal  eyes  lose  sight  of  the  object  and  faith 
must  begin  her  vision.    The  providence  of  God  ex- 
tends to  the  eternal  world.     There  lie  the  imple- 
ments of  his  justice.     There  are  collected  all  his 
magazines.     While  wrath  sleeps  in  this  world,  sin- 
ners dream  that  God  is  "  altogether  such  a  one  as  " 
themselves.     That  is  the  world  to  correct  all  mis- 
takes.    As  sure  as  God  is  true,  he  will  put  sinners 
into  an  eternal  hell.     He  will  lay  upon  them  a  pu- 
nishment exactly  proportioned  to  their  guilt ;  and 
not  one  sin  of  thought,  word,  or  deed  shall  escape. 
Sins  which  were  long  forgotten  by  them,  will  be 
found  to  have  been  laid  up  in  the  repositories  of  his 
memory ;  and  what  they  thought  was  overlooked, 
will  be  seen  to  have  been  uniformly  regarded  with 
infinite  abhorrence.     To  each  sin  will  be  attached 
its  proper  degree  of  punishment,  and  each  degree 
will  run  parallel  with  eternity.     The  most  minute 
transgression  will  be  loaded  with  an  endless  curse. 
Eternal   providence,  like   the  divine  law,  will  be 
found  an  infinite  enemy  of  every  sin.    What  wrath 
against  sin  must  that  be,  which  can  impel  the  infi- 
nitely tender  Father  to  resign  the  souls  which  he 
has  made  to  everlasting  burnings  ?     He  has  not  a 


NATURE    OF    SIN.  333 

particle  of  resentment  against  their  persons.  His 
love  reaches  after  their  happiness  with  unbounded 
desire.  Nothing  but  hatred  of  sin  can  force  the 
dreadful  execution.  O  the  amazing  strength  of  that 
abhorrence  which  can  accomplish  all  this  !  What 
overwhelming  views  will  they  then  have  of  his  im- 
placable, eternal,  omnipotent  displeasure  against 
sin.  When  they  shall  be  brought  out  of  their 
graves  and  arranged  at  his  bar ;  when  the  frowns 
of  God  shall  convulse  the  universe ;  then  shall  they 
know  that  he  was  not  trifling  with  them  when  he 
forbade  sin, — when  he  raised  the  threatening  voice, 
— when  for  so  many  ages  he  uttered  the  vehement 
cry,  "  O  do  not  this  abominable  thing  that  I  hate." 
But  there  is  one  exhibition  of  his  displeasure 
against  sin  which  is  more  amazing  than  all  the  rest. 
When  his  compassions  yearned  over  a  dying  world 
and  had  infinite  longings  for  their  relief,  he  would 
not  pardon  one  of  their  sins  unless  his  beloved  Son, 
in  whom  he  took  infinite  delight,  would  descend 
from  a  God  to  a  servant  and  die  like  a  malefactor 
on  the  torturing  cross,  to  convince  the  universe 
that  he  would  support  the  authority  of  the  law  by 
executing  its  penalty  on  future  offenders.  And 
when  his  obedient  Son  had  presented  himself  in 
the  form  of  a  servant,  and  brought  the  Father's 
heart  to  the  solemn  test,  whether  he  would  strike 
at  sin  through  the  bleeding  heart  of  his  own  Son, 
he  drew  his  sword, — he  smote  the  monster  though 
laid  on  one  so  dear, — and  the  monster  and  his  only 
Son  died  in  one  day.  And  if  he  spared  not  his- 
own  Son,  thinkest  thou,  O  sinner,  that  he  will  spare 


334  THE    ABOMINABLE 

thee  ?    If  these  things  were  done  "  in  a  green  tree, 
what  shall  be  done  in  the  dry  ?" 

It  becomes  then  a  question  of  solemn  import, 
Who  are  sinners?  Often  has  this  question  been 
discussed  in  our  presence,  when  it  excited  but  little 
interest.  But  if  such  are  the  feelings  of  God  to- 
wards sin,  the  question  is  too  infinitely  important 
to  be  turned  aside.  Who  then  are  sinners  ?  To 
this  question  the  Scriptures  have  given  a  decided 
answer :  "  There  is  not  a  just  man  upon  the  earth 
that  doth  good  and  sinneth  not."  "  All  have  sinned 
and  come  short  of  the  glory  of  God." 

Not  only  so,  but  all  men  by  nature,  so  far  as 
they  are  influenced  by  moral  feelings,  are  under  the 
entire  dominion  of  sin.  Through  all  their  souls 
God  sees  not  one  trace  of  love  to  him  or  holy  love 
to  man.  Except  so  far  as  they  are  restrained  by 
conscience  and  the  social  affections,  and  by  other 
things  intended  to  fit  them  to  live  together  in  so- 
ciety, they  are  entirely  governed  by  a  debasing  self- 
ishness, that,  as  soon  as  these  restraints  are  taken 
off",  stands  ready  to  sacrificis  the  universe  to  serve 
a  private  end.  "  God  saw — that  every  imagination 
of  the  thoughts  of"  man's  "  heart  was  only  evil 
continually."  "  The  whole  head  is  sick  and  the 
whole  heart  faint.  From  the  sole  of  the  foot  even 
unto  the  head  there  is  no  soundness, — but  wounds 
and  bruises  and  putrefying  sores."  And  as  is  the 
fountain  so  are  the  streams.  So  far  as  the  words 
and  actions  of  the  natural  man  are  of  a  moral  na- 
ture, they  are  nothing  but  sin.  "  The  plowing  of 
the  wicked  is  sin."     The  very  "sacrifice  of  the 


NATURE    OF    SIN.  335 

wicked  is  an  abomination  to  the  Lord."  Now  then 
we  may  understand  what  feeUngs  God  has  towards 
impenitent  men.  He  regards  them,  so  far  as  he 
contemplates  them  as  moral  beings,  as  one  entire 
mass  of  pollution,  which  his  heart  abhors  infinitely 
more  than  we  do  the  most  filthy  viper.  If  the  sin- 
ner could  have  a  full  view  of  the  feelings  which 
God  has  towards  his  sins,  he  would  die  as  though 
ten  thousand  thunders  burst  upon  his  head.  Sin- 
ner, if  God  hates  one  sin  with  infinite  detestation, 
how  does  he  feel  towards  you,  who  have  been  con- 
stantly sinning  for  so  many  years  ?  Not  a  waking 
moment  has  passed  in  which  you  have  not  trans- 
gressed that  law  which  says,  "  Thou  shalt  love  the 
Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart, — and — thy  neigh- 
bor as  thyself."  His  eyes  have  followed  you  into 
every  corner.  He  has  watched  you  as  constantly 
as  though  he  had  no  other  object  of  attention.  All 
the  sins  of  your  life  are  this  moment  spread  out  be- 
fore him,  as  though  they  had  all  been  committed 
to-day.  They  appear  to  him  like  mountains  piled 
on  mountains,  reaching  to  the  very  heavens  and 
crying  for  vengeance.  This  enormous  weight  of 
guilt  is  crushing  you  to  the  lowest  hell,  while  you 
are  at  ease  and  blessing  yourselves  that  you  are  not 
thieves  or  murderers. 

What  a  wonder  that  any  of  us  are  this  side  of 
eternal  despair !  Considering  the  abhorrence  which 
God  has  always  felt  towards  our  natural  character ; 
considering  that  there  has  been  nothing  in  us  by 
nature  to  give  him  pleasure,  but  every  thing  to  give 
him  disgust ;  how  astonishing  that  he  has  preserved 


336  THE    ABOMINABLE 

US  SO  long,  and  doubly  astonishing  that  he  has  fed 
and  clothed  us,  and  sent  us  Bibles  and  sabbaths  and 
the  Holy  Spirit,  and  sent  his  Son  into  the  world  to 
die  for  our  salvation.  O  "  the  breadth  and  length 
and  depth  and  height"  of  the  love  of  God  "which 
passeth  knowledge." 

What  abundant  cause  have  we  for  humility  and 
self-loathing.  What  reason  to  lay  our  hands  on 
our  mouths  and  our  mouths  in  the  dust, — to  weep 
and  mourn  and  break  our  hearts.  How  strange  to 
see  such  polluted  worms  take  airs  of  self-import- 
ance, and  erect  themselves  into  attitudes  of  con- 
scious worth.  Dust  and  ashes  should  rather  be 
their  covering,  and  the  rending  sigh  of  a  breaking 
heart  their  only  language. 

And  what  would  have  become  of  us  had  not  the 
Son  of  God  left  the  heaven  of  his  glory  "  to  seek 
and  to  save  that  which  was  lost"?  We  wanted  one 
not  merely  to  teach  us  lessons  of  morality  and  to 
spread  before  us  a  holy  example,  but  to  come  down 
into  our  dungeon,  to  strike  off  the  chains  from 
wretched  prisoners  and  "  to  loose  those  that"  were 
"  appointed  to  death."  We  wanted  one  to  take  our 
place  and  die  before  the  gates  of  our  prison,  to 
prevent  the  law  from  taking  its  course  upon  us. 
We  needed  one  whose  death  should  do  as  much  to 
uphold  the  authority  of  the  law  as  the  eternal  de- 
struction of  Adam's  race  would  have  done.  We 
wanted  a  Saviour  absolutely  divine.  Wrap  your- 
self up  in  a  superficial  morality  and  call  it  a  coat 
of  mail ;  I  will  hide  myself  in  the  righteousness  of 
my  Saviour.    Those  veins  bled  balm  to  heal  my 


NATURE    OP    SIN.  337 

wounds.  Those  sighs  dispelled  the  clouds  which 
were  ready  to  burst  on  me.  That  final  groan  com- 
pletely drained  the  cup  of  wrath  prepared  for  us. 
Let  others  push  aside  a  Saviour  to  show  their  own 
fair  form  ;  I  will  wrap  me  in  the  garment  which  he 
has  prepared,  and  die  with  my  eye  fixed  upon  his 
cross.  Let  my  last  words  be  those  which  trembled 
on  the  lips  of  the  dying  martyrs :  None  hut  Christy 
none  hut  Christ. 

Poor  impenitent  sinners,  covered  over  with  pol- 
lution, condemned  and  abhorred  of  God,  here  is 
your  only  remedy.  Take  this  away  and  all  hope 
expires.  You  lie  under  an  infinite  load  of  guilt ; 
you  cannot  atone  for  one  sin ;  you  must  have  this 
Saviour  or  perish  forever.  Why  then,  under  the 
weight  of  all  this  guilt,  do  you  reject  the  Saviour  ? 
The  heavenly  invitation  calls  you  to  his  arms,  and 
yet  you  refuse.  For  so  many  years  has  God  been 
pleading  with  you,  "  O  do  not  this  abominable  thing 
that  I  hate."  It  is  affecting  to  hear  the  great  God 
thus  plead  with  worms.  And  it  is  greatly  affecting 
to  see  those  worms  reject  his  entreaties.  This 
rejection  is  infinitely  offensive  to  God.  It  is  a  di- 
rect rejection  of  him.  It  is  the  blackest  ingratitude. 
It  is  a  most  profane  resistance  of  all  the  light  he 
has  shed.  On  these  accounts  the  Jews  were  more 
severely  punished  than  any  other  nation,  and  in  the 
day  of  judgment  will  find  it  "  more  tolerable  for 
— Sodom  and  Gomorrah"  than  for  them.  Do  not 
act  over  again  the  rebellion  of  the  Jews.  Remem- 
ber that  it  is  written,  "  Because  I — called  and  ye 
refused, — I  also  will  laugh  at  your  calamity,  I  will 

Vol.  I.  43 


338        THE  ABOMINABLE  NATURE  OF  SIN. 

mock  when  your  fear  cometh."  "  Wherefore,  as 
the  Holy  Ghost  saith,  To-day  if  ye  will  hear  his 
voice,  harden  not  your  hearts."  To-day.  This 
and  not  to-morrow  is  the  time  fixed  by  heaven.  In- 
finite rebellion  and  guilt  attend  upon  delay.  Infi- 
nite danger  and  folly  accompany  delay.  If  ever 
you  wish  for  salvation,  seize  the  offered  blessing 
now.  You  need  it  as  much  now  as  you  ever  will. 
It  is  as  easy  to  obtain  it  now  as  it  ever  will  be. 
God  gives  you  no  cause  for  delay.  Come,  for  "  all 
things  are  ready."  Say  not  that  you  cannot.  If 
there  is  any  deficiency  in  yourselves,  it  is  only  for 
you  to  cast  yourselves  on  God.  Go  and  rest  your- 
selves wholly  on  him  for  strength.  The  more  you 
feel  your  own  weakness,  the  more  you  should  rely 
on  him.  If  you  do  not  practise  this  rehance,  you 
do  not  fully  feel  your  own  weakness,  and  this  plea 
is  only  an  excuse.  Would  to  God  that  you  felt 
your  own  utter  insufficiency,  and  then  you  would 
take  hold  of  his  strength  and  do  the  work  at  once. 
There  is  no  reason  for  delay.  Just  relax  your  grasp 
from  every  other  object  and  fall  into  the  arms  of  a 
Saviour.  Do  it  now.  The  eyes  of  God  are  upon 
you.  O  let  him  see  it  done.  Let  him  see  it  done 
before  he  rouses  his  wrath  and  swears.  Ye  shall  not 
see  my  rest. 


SERMON  V. 


THE  WORTH  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Mat.  XVI.  26. 


For  what  is  a  man  profited,  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose 
his  own  soul  ?  or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul  ? 

There  is  in  man  an  immaterial  soul,  distinct  from 
the  clay  which  composes  his  body ;  a  spiritual  sub- 
stance that  thinks  and  reasons,  chooses  and  refuses, 
loves  and  hates ;  and  this  conscious  being,  not  de- 
pending for  its  existence  on  the  body,  will  survive 
in  a  separate  state  when  the  body  shall  be  dissolved. 
Reason  assents  to  this  when  it  is  discovered ;  and 
although  reason  could  not  have  made  the  discovery, 
yet  the  separate  existence  of  the  soul  is  clearly  re- 
vealed in  that  Gospel  which  has  brought  life  and 
immortality  to  light.  Every  believer  in  revelation 
must,  therefore,  perceive  it  to  be  the  chief  interest 
of  man  to  secure  the  happiness  of  his  soul  in  a  fu- 
ture and  eternal  state.  And  those  who  believe  in 
the  necessity  of  a  change  of  heart  and  of  a  thorough 


340  THE    WORTH 

religion,  will  not  deny  that  there  is  a  lamentable 
and  surprising  degree  of  inattention  to  the  soul 
among  the  greater  part  of  mankind  ;  an  inattention 
which,  where  it  continues,  must  prove  eternally  fa- 
tal. Such  will  not  impute  it  to  severity,  if  the  mi- 
nisters of  the  Gospel,  with  the  most  heart-felt  so- 
licitude, endeavor  to  awaken  their  brethren,  their 
flesh  and  blood,  from  such  a  destructive  lethargy. 
The  most  impassioned  calls  will  not  be  deemed  too 
vehement  in  such  a  cause. 

I  cannot  hope,  my  dear  hearers,  to  speak  to  you 
with  eflect,  unless  you  firmly  believe  in  an  eternity 
of  rewards  and  punishments.  If  this  be  denied,  I 
shall  not  carry  you  along  with  me  as  I  pursue  the 
subject.  And  because  I  may  have  to  break  com- 
pany with  some  here  whom  I  would  not  leave  be- 
hind, I  will  stop  a  little  and  plead  with  them.  God 
grant  that  it  be  not  a  parting  leave. 

If  you  doubt  a  future  state,  tell  me,  for  what  end 
were  the  human  race  created  ?  For  happiness  ?  this 
none  attains  to  the  extent  of  his  capacity  in  the  pre- 
sent life,  and  many  are  wretched  from  the  cradle  to 
the  grave.  For  the  glory  of  God  ?  this  end  is  not 
answered  if  there  be  no  future  state :  for  here  vir- 
tue is  often  oppressed  while  vice  triumphs.  With- 
out a  state  of  more  equal  rewards  and  punishments, 
the  human  race  would  bring  a  reproach  on  the 
righteous  Governor  of  the  world.  And  consider, 
I  pray  you,  that  you  cannot  bring  a  future  state 
into  doubt  until  you  have  destroyed  the  evidence  on 
which  divine  revelation  rests; — the  testimony  of 
miracles  and  prophecies, — the  standing  testimony 


OP   THE    SOUL.  341 

of  the  Jewish  nation, — the  evidence  derived  from 
the  unity  of  design,  the  holy  precepts,  and  all  the 
vestiges  of  divinity  impressed  on  the  sacred  pages ; 
a  task  which  the  wisest  and  best  men  would  die  be- 
fore they  would  attempt,  and  which  the  subtlest 
enemies  of  revelation  have  never  been  able  to  ac- 
complish. To  risk  your  immortal  all  on  the  per- 
formance of  such  a  task  !  how  much  better  to  risk 
it  on  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  of  God.  Do  you  be- 
lieve in  a  future  state^  but  not  future  punishment  ? 
still  the  things  of  eternity  and  not  the  world  ought 
to  engross  your  chief  attention.  Animating  pros- 
pects of  worldly  good  can  prevail  to  draw  your  at- 
tention from  the  present  moment ;  how  much  more 
should  a  prospect  of  immortal  happiness !  Are 
you  sincere  in  believing  yourselves  the  heirs  of  the 
eternal  glories  of  heaven,  and  yet  so  seldom  think 
of  futurity,  and  so  deeply  affected  with  the  trifles, 
the  joys  and  disappointments  of  a  moment  ?  Per- 
haps you  believe  m  future  but  not  in  eternal  punish- 
ment. Well,  what  would  it  profit  a  man  to  gain 
the  whole  world  and  lose  his  soul  for  ages  of  ages 
in  hell?  To  avoid  one  year's  imprisonment  on 
earth,  you  would  do  and  suffer  much.  To  escape 
then  this  dreadful  punishment  after  death,  (even  if 
it  be  not  endless,)  with  what  anxiety  ought  you  to 
examine  the  conditions  of  pardon,  your  own  cha- 
racter, and  labor  to  make  your  peace  with  God. 
Or  have  you  the  unnatural  cruelty  to  disinherit 
your  future  selves  of  all  affection,  and  having  fol- 
lowed yourselves  with  concern  through  every  pe- 
riod to  the  grave,  to  bury  there  with  your  bodies 


342  THE    WORTH 

all  self-regard  ?  Know  ye,  my  beloved  friends,  that 
your  future  selves  will  be  these  same  conscious  be- 
ings whose  sensations  are  so  interesting  to  you  at 
present?  These  same  minds,  with  the  same  per- 
sonal consciousness,  will  be  in  heaven  or  hell.  But 
if  you  will  not  be  persuaded,  I  will  turn  to  others 
who  do  believe  in  all  the  realities  of  a  future  state 
which  the  Scriptures  disclose.  To  you,  my  more 
hopeful  hearers,  I  say,  "  What  is  a  man  profited  if 
he  shall  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own 
soul  ?"  That  you  should  want  persuasion  to  value 
the  salvation  of  the  soul  above  the  present  world, 
is  among  those  wonders  which  want  a  name.  What 
can  be  the  cause  of  this  ?  Doubtless  the  more  re- 
mote cause  is  simple  aversion  to  God  and  divine 
things ;  but  the  proximate  cause  is  worldly  attach- 
ment and  care.  The  profits,  pleasures,  and  honors 
of  the  present  life  so  fill  the  eye,  that  the  true  in- 
terest of  the  soul  is  not  discerned.  Were  all  these 
things  away,  the  mind,  ever  restless  in  pursuit  of 
something,  would  more  readily  bend  forward  to  in- 
vestigate eternal  objects.  Suffer  me  then  to  resist 
these  dangerous  seducers  by  urging  the  solemn 
aphorism  of  Him  who  knew  the  value  of  the  soul : 
"  What  is  a  man  profited  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole 
world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  or  what  shall  a  man 
give  in  exchange  for  his  soul  ?" 

The  superior  value  of  the  soul  will  appear  from 
the  following  considerations : 

1.  From  its  essence  and  capacities.  The  body  is 
composed  of  dust,  like  the  bodies  of  other  animals. 
All  the  treasures  of  the  world  are  made  of  dust. 


OP   THE   SOUL.  343 

But  the  soul  was  infused  by  the  breath  of  God. 
While  the  body  is  fitted  for  the  lower  animal  func- 
tions, and  governed  by  laws  common  to  the  animal 
tribes,  the  soul  is  endowed  with  the  moral  faculty, 
which  renders  it  the  subject  of  the  dignified  and 
awful  government  of  Jehovah.  It  is  aggrandized 
with  capacities  to  serve  and  glorify  God,  to  be  use- 
ful to  men,  to  relieve  the  afflicted,  and  to  manage 
the  concerns  of  nations.  It  is  capable  of  the  hea- 
venly exercises  of  love,  pity,  and  mercy.  The  ex- 
tent of  its  capacities  is  amazing.  What  number- 
less and  surprising  inventions  for  the  benefit  and 
ornament  of  society  has  it  made ;  what  progress  in 
the  knowledge  of  the  arts  and  sciences — in  explor- 
ing the  secrets  of  the  animal,  vegetable  and  mine- 
ral kingdoms.  It  has  searched  out  the  bowels  of 
the  earth.  It  has  wandered  among  the  stars  to  cal- 
culate their  laws  and  order.  It  has  followed  the 
comets  in  their  immense  excursions.  It  has  been 
found  capacious  enough  to  take  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  world  upon  world,  and  system  upon  system, 
spread  through  the  regions  of  boundless  space.  Its 
motions  are  so  rapid  that  it  can  rove  from  star  to 
star,  and  from  world  to  world,  in  a  moment.  No 
fetters  can  bind  it,  no  bounds  contain  it.  It  is  ca- 
pable of  exerting  itself  like  an  angel  in  the  employ- 
ments of  the  heavenly  world ;  contemplating  God, 
expatiating  through  his  works,  and  assisting  in  the 
anthems  of  celestial  worship.  That  such  a  stupen- 
dious  emanation  of  divinity  should  be  thrown  into 
ruins — the  use  of  all  these  godlike  faculties  be 
worse  than  lost,  and  forever  devoted  to  malice  and 


344  THE    WORTH 

blasphemy, — so  much  would  not  be  lost  should  the 
material  universe  fall  into  one  general  wreck. 

Vast  capacities  has  the  soul  for  happiness  and  mi- 
sery. I  appeal  to  those  who  are  acquainted  with 
the  pleasures  and  pains  of  the  mind.  No  delights 
which  depend  on  the  senses  can  compare  with  the 
serene  pleasures  of  a  contented  soul,  much  less 
with  the  raptures  of  a  transported  soul.  And  no 
pains  which  the  body  feels  can  equal  the  agonies 
of  a  troubled  spirit.  The  capacity  of  the  soul  for 
happiness  and  misery  will  be  greatly  enlarged  at 
death.  It  will  then  be  an  angel  in  bliss  or  a  devil 
in  misery  ; — rapt  in  pleasure  which  no  mortal  heart 
can  conceive,  or  laboring  with  throes  and  agonies 
which  the  imaginations  of  this  infant  world  are  too 
feeble  to  paint. 

The  happiness  which  appertains  to  the  soul  is 
far  the  most  noble  in  its  kind.  How  diminutive  is 
the  happiness,  (if  it  be  worthy  of  the  name,)  that 
can  be  gathered  from  the  briers  and  brambles  of 
this  wilderness.  What  are  the  pleasures  of  sense, 
but  the  half -enjoyed  pleasures  of  the  brute  ?  What 
are  the  pleasures  of  the  imagination,  but  Utopian 
visions?  What  the  pleasures  of  honor,  but  pal- 
pitating pains  ?  What  the  pleasures  of  riches,  but 
the  morose  perplexities  of  care?  What  are  the 
pleasures  of  friendship,  but  pleasures  of  the  soul  ? 
Nothing  is  worthy  of  the  name  of  happiness  but 
that  which  has  its  seat  peculiarly  in  the  mind.  And 
then  how  sublime  is  intellectual  delight.  In  con- 
templating the  dignified  happiness  of  a  Newton  or 
a  Franklin,  we  are  awed  into  reverence,  and  assent 


OF    THE    SOUL.  345 

that  intellectual  bliss  rises  high  and  out  of  sight  of 
the  low  pleasures  of  the  epicure,  and  feel  an  in- 
stinctive conviction  that  such  happiness  ennobles 
and  exalts.  But  if  the  happiness  of  the  philosopher 
so  far  transcends,  what  does  the  happiness  of  the 
christian  ?  If  to  contemplate  the  sun  and  moon 
produces  a  delight  full  of  dignity,  what  does  the 
contemplation  of  Him  who  spoke  these  orbs  into 
being  ?  The  soul  alone  is  capable  of  enjoying 
God ;  and  the  small  portion  of  this  delight  which 
is  allotted  to  christians  here,  is  by  far  the  most  sub- 
lime happiness  of  the  present  life.  But  who  can 
conceive  the  bliss,  the  dignified  and  God-like  bliss, 
which  their  souls  will  enjoy  in  heaven  !  having  free 
access  to  the  infinite  God, — diving  into  the  ocean 
of  his  exhaustless  glory, — swallowed  up  in  the  over- 
flowings of  his  love, — reposing  among  the  tender- 
nesses of  his  bosom, — towering  in  the  dignity  of 
spirits, — climbing  the  regions  of  light  and  life,  the 
companions  of  Seraphim  and  Cherubim, — the  very 
sons  of  God,  and  heirs  of  all  the  riches  and  joys 
of  the  universe  ?  What  is  the  world  to  this  ?  "Its 
pomp,  its  pleasures,  and  its  nonsense  all  ?" 

II.  The  superior  value  of  the  soul  appears  from 
the  amazing  respect  that  has  been  paid  to  it.  Man 
must  have  been  a  very  important  being  in  the  esti- 
mation of  God,  or  he  would  not  have  built  this 
beautiful  and  stupendous  world  for  his  habitation. 
But  was  it  for  the  body  that  this  planet  was  erected, 
or  was  chief  respect  had  to  the  soul  ?  It  was  not 
built  for  the  dust,  but  for  the  immortal  part ;  not 
for  man  as  a  mere  animal,  but  for  man  as  a  subject 

Vol.  I.  44 


346  THE    WORTH 

of  moral  government, — for  a  nursery  in  which  to 
foster  his  infant  faculties  for  the  employments  of  a 
vigorous  and  eternal  manhood.  It  is  for  the  life 
and  growth  of  the  soul  that  the  valleys  spread  out 
their  bosoms, — that  the  mountains  lift  up  their  heads 
towards  heaven, — that  ocean,  with  its  milHon  waves, 
laves  the  shore, — that  serpent,  fish,  and  bird  were 
formed,  "  and  the  cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills."  It 
was  to  light  the  soul  in  its  way  to  glory  that  the  sun 
and  moon  were  hung  out  of  heaven.  'Tis  for  its 
"sake  all  nature  stands  and  stars  their  courses 
move."  Amazing  thought !  Where  am  I  ?  Me- 
thinks  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  look  down  tremb- 
lingly to  observe  its  fate.  All  nature  seems  to  sit 
in  solemn  silence,  looking  out  of  all  her  eyes,  to 
watch  the  destinies  of  the  soul. 

But  no  respect  which  has  been  paid  to  the  soul 
puts  so  vast  an  estimate  upon  it  as  the  price  that 
was  paid  for  its  redemption.  What  must  have  been 
the  valuation  of  the  soul  in  heaven,  when  that  God 
before  whom  all  nations  are  as  the  "  dust  of  the 
balance,"  became  an  infant  in  the  manger  of  Be- 
thlehem, sweat  blood  in  Gethsemane,  was  beaten 
and  spit  upon  in  the  judgment  hall,  and  expired  on 
the  ragged  irons  ?  Every  groan  of  Calvary  pro- 
nounced the  worth  of  the  soul  to  be  greater  than 
ten  thousand  material  worlds.  The  Son  of  God 
would  not  have  given  his  life  to  redeem  the  whole 
material  universe  from  ruin.  He  would  not  have 
shed  a  drop  of  his  blood  to  save  this  world  with  all 
its  lumber  from  the  flames.  He  will  of  choice  give 
it  to  the  flames  when  its  use  to  the  soul  of  man  shall 


OF    THE    SOUL.  347 

be  ended.     And  yet  he  shed  all  his  blood  to  save 
the  soul. 

God  has  discovered  his  high  regard  for  the  soul 
by  the  pains  he  has  taken  to  give  a  written  revela- 
tion to  the  world,  to  establish  and  preserve  a  church 
and  houses  of  worship,  to  institute  sabbaths  and  sa- 
craments and  a  Gospel  ministry,  and  by  all  the  la- 
bors and  calls  of  six  thousand  years.  The  body 
may  be  cast  upon  a  dunghill  and  eaten  by  worms, 
and  God  regards  it  not;  but  in  the  day  that  the 
animal  part  is  committed  to  the  loathsome  grave, 
he  takes  special  care  that  this  noble  particle  of  him- 
self shall  not  enter  among  the  dead,  but  raps  it  away 
to  the  region  of  spirits. 

Angels  also  discover  their  high  regard  for  the 
soul,  by  leaving  the  realms  of  glory  to  consume 
their  time  upon  this  distant  planet  by  daily  minis- 
trations for  its  salvation.  Should  a  company  of 
the  greatest  men  in  Europe  cross  the  Atlantic  to 
manage  a  certain  business,  the  world  would  be  look- 
ing after  them,  and  would  conclude  that  the  inte- 
rest they  came  to  manage  was  of  vast  importance. 
What  then  shall  we  think  of  the  soul  ?  that  "  for 
whose  guard  the  angel  bands  come  flying  from 
above  ?" 

Heaven  and  earth,  God,  angels,  and  good  men 
are  engaged  to  deliver  the  soul.  And  this  is  not 
all;  hell  is  in  motion  to  oppose  its  deliverance. 
Myriads  of  principalities  and  powers  are  leagued 
against  it.  "  How  great  must  be  the  value  of  the 
soul,"  says  one,  "  when  three  luorlds  are  thus  con- ' 
tending  for  it."     Would  three  worlds,  I  ask,  thus 


348  THE    WORTH 

contend  for  this  little  particle  of  dust  called  earth? 
No,  but  they  will  contend  for  the  soul  of  man. 

III.  What  completes  the  value  of  the  soul  is  its 
immortality,  and  perhaps  eternal  progression.  This 
life  is  but  the  threshold  of  our  existence, — a  breath ; 
we  gasp  once  here  and  live  forever.  If  we  owned 
the  whole  world  it  could  not  attend  us  a  step  be- 
yond the  grave ;  but  if  we  once  obtain  the  heavenly 
inheritance,  we  shall  carry  it  with  us  down  through 
the  revolving  ages  of  eternity.  If  want  and  afflic- 
tion beset  us  here,  death  will  soon  close  the  dis- 
tress ;  but  if  we  lose  our  soul  the  loss  will  be  for- 
ever. This  is  that  last  death  which  death  itself 
cannot  destroy.  The  fashion  of  this  world  passes 
away;  the  earth  will  soon  grow  crazy  with  age; 
the  sun  itself  shall  wax  dim  in  its  orbit ;  the  stars 
shall  fall  like  the  leaves  of  autumn ;  but  the  death- 
less soul  shall  survive  the  wreck  of  worlds.  And 
when  another  period,  as  long  as  the  world's  age, 
shall  have  passed,  and  as  many  such  periods  as 
there  were  moments  in  the  first,  the  soul  will  have 
just  begun  its  course.  To  stand  on  some  eminence 
like  Pisgah  and  look  away  into  eternity,  O  what  a 
prospect  rushes  on  the  eye !  Let  imagination  spread 
all  her  pinions  and  swiftly  pursue  the  flying  soul, 
through  ages  of  joy  enough  to  dissolve  mortal  flesh, 
— and  keep  on  wing  and  still  pursue,  through  peri- 
ods which  human  numbers  cannot  calculate — until 
the  fancy  has  got  so  far  from  home  as  hardly  to  be 
recalled; — it  must  still  return  and  leave  the  flying 
soul  to  explore  ages  after  ages, — a  boundless  eter- 
nity of  inexpressible  bliss.     And  when  it  returns  to 


OF  THE   SOUL.  349 

earth,  how  it  sickens  at  worldly  glory,  and  calls 
mortal  life  a  blank,  a  point,  no  time  at  all. 

Let  it  stretch  its  wings  again,  and  follow  the  ex- 
cruciated soul  through  ages  of  unutterable  endu- 
rance— through  fire  intense  enough  to  melt  down 
all  the  planets.  One  period  after  another  passes  by 
it  as  it  flies, — until  it  looks  back  on  the  first  million 
of  years  as  on  a  speck  in  the  horizon,  and  still  it 
hears  the  tormented  soul  exclaim,  '•''My  agony  is 
just  begun.^^  God  of  mercy,  preserve  this  assem- 
bly from  this  eternity  of  pain  ! 

Our  fainting  minds  will  be  overwhelmed  with  the 
value  of  the  soul  if  we  admit  its  eternal  progres- 
sion. It  is  so  difficult  to  conceive  of  one's  living 
forever  in  heaven  without  acquiring  any  new  ideas, 
or  any  deeper  impressions  from  ideas  already  re- 
ceived, that  it  is  generally  believed  that  holy  crea- 
tures will  forever  grow  in  capacity  and  enjoyment. 
And  there  are  certainly  passages  of  Scripture  which 
favor  this  opinion.  I  shall  venture  no  assertion 
on  this  point ;  but  taking  the  thing  for  granted  at 
present,  what  an  august  being  will  a  human  soul 
become !  Observe  its  progress  in  the  present  life 
and  the  dignity  which  it  here  accumulates.  Yes- 
terday it  was  a  babe  weeping  in  its  mother's  arms  ; 
— to-day  it  is  a  child  and  we  chide  it ; — to-morraw 
it  is  a  philosopher  and  we  revere  him.  Let  this 
progress  be  extended  to  a  million  of  years,  and 
how  great  has  that  creature  become.  A  thousand 
times  more  difference  between  him  and  a  Newton, 
than  between  a  Newton  and  an  infant.  Mark  that 
miniature  of  man  just  opening  its  eyes  on  the  light ; 


350  THE    WORTH 

yet  that  minim  of  being  contains  a  soul  which  will 
one  day  outstrip  the  ranges  of  the  widest  imagina- 
tion. That  spark  will  grow  to  the  flame  of  a  seraph; 
that  thinking  thing  will  fly  through  heaven.  Ob- 
serve that  poor  christain  doomed  to  hard  labor, 
covered  with  sweat  and  dust.  The  world  sweeps 
by  him  without  deeming  him  worthy  of  a  look,  and 
considers  him  only  an  animal.  Yet  that  same  poor 
man  will  soon  be  greater  than  a  nation  combined. 
While  carrying  burdens  on  his  bending  shoulders, 
(ye  know  him  not,)  he  is  an  angel  in  disguise :  the 
reverse  of  the  stage,  where  a  poor  man  acts  the 
king,  but  passing  behind  the  curtain  dwindles  to  a 
pauper ;  for  here  a  king  acts  the  pauper,  and  as 
soon  as  the  curtain  falls  ascends  his  throne.  See 
that  mingled  throng  in  the  streets,  fluttering  about 
like  insects  in  the  summer's  sun, — the  reputed  crea- 
tures of  a  day.  How  little  is  it  considered  that 
every  one  of  that  number,  and  of  those  human 
shapes  in  the  filthy  dungeon,  is  destined  to  eternal 
progression,  and  will  one  day  be  greater  than  kings 
in  glory  or  equally  great  in  misery.  Fix  your  eyes 
a  little  upon  that  throng,  and  silently  mark  whither 
they  will  go  when  they  disperse.  I  foflow  one  with 
my  eyes  to  his  secret  apartment :  I  see  the  shiver- 
ings  of  death  steahng  upon  him;  the  tears  of 
mourners  fill  the  room ;  the  soul  bursts  its  cere- 
ment, and  is  an  angel  now  :  wings  are  lent  it,  and 
I  trace  it  soaring  through  the  regions  of  light.  I 
follow  it  in  its  course  of  endless  progression  until 
it  has  become  greater  than  Gabriel  was.  I  pursue 
till  it  has  become  greater  than  the  whole  human  race 


OF    THE    SOUL.  351 

were  in  this  infant  world, — till  it  has  become  greater 
than  all  the  angels  together  were  when  it  left  the 
body  :  and  I  leave  it  still  progressing  towards  God, 
approximating  towards  his  infinite  dimensions, — a 
point  at  an  immeasurable  distance,  but  at  which  it 
is  eternally  stretching  away.  We  are  lost,  we  are 
swallowed  up  in  the  boundless  prospect. 

Upon  the  principle  of  eternal  progression,  (how- 
ever slow  that  progression  may  be,)  these  are  the 
destinies  of  the  feeblest  soul  that  ever  enters  heaven. 

I  return  to  the  street.  I  follov/  another  of  the 
crowd  through  his  round  of  dissipation, — through 
many  serious  thoughts,  many  broken  resolutions, 
— until  I  trace  him  to  a  dying  bed.  His  soul  is 
forced  from  the  body  amidst  the  agonies  of  dis- 
tracted friends,  and,  staring  with  wild  affright,  is 
dragged  to  the  mouth  of  the  pit  and  plunged  into 
hell.  And  is  not  this  enough  ?  Good  God,  is  not 
this  enough?  Must  it  still  proceed  from  bad  to 
worse  ?  This  is  believed  by  many  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  soul,  and  from  hell's  being  called  a 
"  bottomless  pit,"  in  which,  as  the  figure  seems  to 
import,  one  may  sink  forever  deeper  and  deeper  in 
misery  without  finding  a  bottom.  It  is  also  alleged 
that  the  same  unchangeable  purity  that  required  the 
punishment  of  sins  committed  in  the  body,  will 
equally  require  an  increase  of  misery  to  provide  a 
punishment  for  all  the  rage  and  wickedness  of  hell. 
That  the  punishment  will  be  endless  is  certain,  but 
whether  it  will  be  progressive  I  will  not  venture  to 
assert.  But  the  thing  being  once  admitted,  conse- 
quences result  enough  to  shake  a  world.     Then  the 


152  THE    WORTH 

time  will  come  when  the  smallest  soul  in  hell  will 
contain  more  misery  than  Satan  now  does ; — time 
will  come  when  the  smallest  soul  in  hell  will  endure 
more  in  one  hour  than  has  been  endured  on  earth  by 
all  nations  since  the  creation.  And  further  still,— 
it  is  too  awful  to  proceed.  O  what  a  God  is  that 
which  lives  from  eternity  to  eternity !  O  what  a  re- 
demption did  Christ  come  to  accomplish,  from  this 
eternity  of  pain  to  this  immortality  of  glory  !  O 
what  a  soul  has  man !  Surely  it  was  worth  being 
redeemed  by  the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God.  Surely 
it  is  worth  being  saved  by  a  life  of  self-denial  and 
prayer.  What  can  be  too  much  to  give  in  exchange 
for  the  soul  ? 

How  solemnly  important  do  sabbaths  now  appear, 
and  time,  and  the  Bible,  and  every  thing  which  re- 
lates to  the  soul's  salvation.  The  sun,  moon,  and 
stars  appear  solemn  in  shining ;  the  earth,  the  con- 
cave, and  all  nature  seem  to  borrow  the  solemnity 
of  eternity ;  and  this  world  appears  only  the  cradle 
in  which  souls  yet  in  swaddling  bands  are  rocked 
for  immortality. 

Heir  of  immortality,  bow  before  thine  own  ma- 
jesty. Debase  not  thyself  by  sordid  actions.  A 
royal  infant,  while  in  his  nurse's  arms,  though  un- 
conscious of  his  dignity,  is  yet  born  to  sway  the 
sceptre  and  fate  of  nations,  and  should  be  trained 
up  in  habits  according  with  his  august  destinies. 
Whilst  thou  art  pursuing  every  idle  phantom,  thou 
forgettest  the  dignity  of  thy  nature  and  the  infinite 
grandeur  of  thy  destinies.  But  thou  wast  born  for 
great  things.    Those  eyes  were  formed  to  see  great 


OP  THE   SOUL.  353 

things,  and  that  soul  to  experience  amazing  sensa- 
tions. Man,  thou  hast  a  world  in  thyself.  Child 
of  death,  thou  hast  a  concealed  treasure  in  thy  bo- 
som, (alas  too  concealed,)  which  the  exhausted 
Indies  could  not  purchase.  Crowns  and  kingdoms 
sink  to  nothing  before  it.  It  is  worth  more  than 
the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  if  the  sun  were  gold  and 
every  star  a  ruby.  If  from  the  birth-day  of  this 
earth  omnipotence  had  been  exerted  to  create  as 
many  worlds  in  a  moment  as  there  are  dusts  in  this, 
and  all  these  worlds  were  gold  and  diamonds,  and 
possession  to  be  given  for  eternity,  they  would  all 
be  like  filth  of  the  street  to  the  value  of  thy  soul. 
And  wilt  thou  live  and  die  ignorant  of  the  treasure 
thou  possessest  ?  Wilt  thou  squander  it  all  for  toys 
and  be  an  everlasting  bankrupt  ?  When  thou  shalt 
carry  back  thy  soul  to  Him  who  gave  thee  the  ta- 
lent, fair  and  glorious,  to  improve  for  him,  and  to 
return  still  more  fair  and  glorious,  and  shalt  pre- 
sent it  such  a  ruinous  mass,  what  will  the  Judge  say 
to  thee  ?  If  they  must  perish  who  murder  the  body, 
what  a  death  of  deaths  is  due  to  those  who  murder 
the  soul.  Less  vile  would  it  be,  were  the  soul  out 
of  the  question,  to  destroy  the  bodies  of  a  whole 
nation.  This  vast,  this  magnificent  soul  of  man  ! 
Were  there  no  God  to  sin  against,  I  had  almost 
said,  it  would  deserve  eternal  damnation  to  sin 
against  such  a  soul. 

Ah  sinner,  this  soul  of  thine  is  on  the  point  of 
being  lost  forever,  and  immense  difficulties  lie  in 
the  way  of  saving  it.     Up,  without  delay,  and  see 

Vol.  I.  45 


354  THE    WORTH 

what  can  be  done.  Surely  the  infinite  treasure  is 
worth  one  mighty  effort  to  save  it. 

Should  you  reign  universal  emperor  of  this  lower 
world  for  three  score  years  and  ten,  and  then  sink 
into  eternal  misery,  what  an  infinite  loser  would  you 
be.  What  solace  would  the  world  be  to  you  after 
your  soul  was  lost  ?  All  the  streams  and  oceans 
you  had  commanded  would  not  afford  you  a  drop 
of  water  to  cool  your  tongue ;  but  the  remembrance 
of  past  prosperity  would  only  aggravate  present  dis- 
ease. The  wealth  of  Xerxes  and  Croesus  now 
avails  them  not ;  it  is  no  comfort  to  Alexander  that 
he  conquered  the  world :  nor  is  Nero  profited  by  a 
name  to  live  after  he  is  dead. 

But  if  to  exchange  the  soul  for  a  world  would  be 
a  senseless  bargain,  how  worse  than  mad  to  sacri- 
fice it  for  a  toy.  No  sinner  obtains  the  whole  world 
at  last,  and  most  that  lose  their  souls  receive  but  a 
small  pittance  in  return.  How  many  are  selling 
their  deathless  souls  for  some  paltry  sum  extorted 
by  oppression,  for  the  momentary  pleasure  of  the 
brute,  for  the  intoxicating  bowl,  for  the  dark  delight 
of  marring  another's  fame,  for  the  useless  diversion 
of  profaning  the  name  of  God,  for  a  toy, — a  noth- 
ing when  nothing  is  offered, — a  nothing  always^ — 
and  less  than  nothing.  For  nothing  more  is  gain- 
ed than  though  the  soul  were  saved,  and  all  the  pre- 
sent delights  of  religion  are  lost.  This  great  mart, 
the  world,  is  full  of  distracted  men,  hurrying  from 
place  to  place  to  barter  their  souls  for  less,/ar  less 
than  nothing.     They  sell  them  now  for  naught,  but 


OP   THE   SOUL.  355 

time  will  come  when  they  would  give  ten  thousand 
worlds  to  redeem  them  back  again.  But  then  it 
will  be  too  late.  For  what  can  a  man  in  hell  "  give 
in  exchange  for  his  soul  ?" 

My  dear  hearers,  my  heart  is  distressed  with  the 
apprehension  that  some  of  you  will  lose  your  souls. 
Indeed,  I  expect  nothing  else.  You  are  hearing 
these  solemn  truths  perhaps  with  indifference,  if  not 
with  disgust.  You  will  go  careless  from  the  house 
of  God.  You  will  think  little  of  what  you  have 
heard  until  a  dying  day.  But  then  perhaps  these 
truths  will  meet  you  again.  You  need  not  then  be 
told  of  the  worth  of  the  soul.  Perhaps  the  pangs 
of  dissolving  nature  will  be  your  least  distress. 
You  may  then  remember  this  day,  and  mourn 
that  the  warnings  of  anxious  love  were  unheeded. 
I  can  do  no  more  than  entreat  you,  and  I  do  entreat 
you  with  the  most  heart-felt  regard.  And  if  you 
are  offended  at  this  freedom,  I  ask  but  one  more 
privilege, — to  weep  and  pray  for  you  in  secret,  and 
to  cry  in  the  midnight  hour,  "O  that  they  were 
wise,  that  they  understood  this,  that  they  would 
consider  their  latter  end !" 


SERMON  VL 


TOKENS  OF  PERDITION. 


Mat.  XXIV.  32,  33. 


Now  learn  a  parable  of  the  fig  tree.  When  his  branch  is  yet  tender  and 
putteth  forth  leaves,  ye  know  that  summer  is  nigh.  So  likewise  ye,  when 
ye  shall  see  all  these  things,  know  that  it  is  near,  even  at  the  doors. 

Our  Saviour  had  been  foretelling  the  signs  which 
should  precede  his  coming  in  the  destruction  of  Je- 
rusalem and  his  coming  at  the  end  of  the  world. 
As  the  tender  branch  and  early  leaves  of  the  fig 
tree  betoken  the  approach  of  summer,  so  these  pre- 
dicted harbingers  would  betoken,  in  their  seasons, 
the  judgment  upon  Jerusalem  and  the  judgment  of 
the  threat  day.  Corresponding  with  these  two  judg- 
ments are  two  which  every  wicked  man  must  meet ; 
one  at  death  and  the  other  at  the  second  coming  of 
Christ :  and  corresponding  with  these  signs  arc  the 
symptoms  which  are  found  on  individual  sinners  of 
these  approaching  judgments.  There  are  certain 
appearances  in  relation  to  particular  men  which 


358  TOKENS    OP    PERDITION. 

may  be  plainly  set  down  as  Tokens  of  Perdition ; 
which  as  manifestly  forebode  destruction  as  early 
fig  leaves  foretel  approaching  summer.  The  sum- 
mer may  be  prevented  by  a  special  interposition  of 
God,  and  so  may  this  destruction. 

In  general  it  may  be  observed  that  a  state  of  im- 
penitence and  unbelief  is  a  portentous  symptom  of 
approaching  ruin ;  much  in  the  same  way  that  the 
condemnation  and  imprisonment  of  a  criminal  are 
signs  of  his  approaching  execution.  Every  unbe- 
Hever  is  now  under  sentence  of  death,  and  is  im- 
prisoned in  the  body  to  await  the  day  of  execution. 
"He  that  believeth  not  is  condemned  already." 
This,  one  would  think,  is  a  state  sufficiently  alarm- 
ing to  rouse  every  impenitent  sinner  not  actually 
distracted.  But  there  are  still  more  fearful  symp- 
toms, which  may  be  emphatically  styled  The  To- 
kens of  Perdition.  Some  of  these  I  will  endeavor 
to  select  and  arrange.  And  O  may  that  Spirit 
whose  province  it  is  to  convince  the  world  of  sin, 
of  righteousness,  and  of  judgment,  apply  them  to 
your  hearts  !  The  day  of  judgment  is  before  us  all, 
— is  just  at  the  door.  We  shall  soon  be  translated 
from  earthly  temples  to  one  of  the  two  great  apart- 
ments of  eternity.  Everlasting  ages  of  happiness 
or  misery  are  before  us  all.  And  while  our  destiny 
lingers,  we  are  permitted  to  meet  once  more  in  the 
house  of  God,  to  confer  together  on  these  amazing 
revolutions  of  ages.  We  are  met  in  an  assembly 
which  will  be  reviewed  from  that  world  with  un- 
speakable interest  after  yonder  sun  has  ceased  to 
shine.     By  all  the  anxiety  of  one  who  must  shortly 


TOKENS    OF    PERDITION.  359 

meet  you  at  the  bar  of  Christ, — by  all  the  tender- 
ness of  a  pastor  who  wishes  to  spend  eternal  years 
with  you  in  love  and  happiness,  I  entreat  you  to 
lend  me  your  whole  attention. 

The  first  token  of  perdition  which  I  shall  men- 
tion is  vicious  habits;  such  as  profane  swearing, 
drunkenness,  uncleanness,  associating  with  loose 
company  and  the  like.  This  is  the  broad  road  to 
perdition.  These  habits  bespeak  one  already /ar 
advanced  in  the  course  to  ruin.  They  prove  a  con- 
science  seared  as  with  a  hot  iron.  They  are  alarm- 
ing symptoms  of  a  soul  abaiidoned  of  God.  They 
are  the  most  perfect  process  that  could  be  invented 
to  harden  the  heart  and  to  grieve  the  spirit  away  for- 
ever. They  remove  the  sinner  to  the  greatest  pos- 
sible distance  from  all  the  means  instituted  for  his 
salvation.  They  betoken  a  rapid  approach  to  that 
moment  when  the  measure  of  his  iniquity  shall  befull^ 
and  are  every  hour  bringing  him  more  directly  un- 
der that  fearful  sentence.  The  wicked  "  shall  not 
live  out  half  their  days."  They  are  the  best  cho- 
sen means  to  provoke  the  wrath  of  heaven,  and  to 
seal  and  hasten  and  aggravate  the  sinner's  ruin. 
That  is  a  course  from  which  few  return.  It  is  rare 
that  a  person  settled  in  these  habits  gives  evidence 
of  becoming  a  real  christian.  Where  one  does 
this,  millions  proceed  from  bad  to  worse  until  they 
plunge  into  eternal  death.  The  commencement  of 
such  a  course  therefore,  shows  as  strong  a  proba- 
bility of  perdition,  as  the  commencement  of  a  con- 
sumption does  of  death.  They  are  gone,  eternally 
gone,  unless  they  are  plucked  as  brands  from  the 
burning. 


360  TOKENS    OF    PERDITION. 

The  next  token  of  perdition  which  I  shall  men- 
tion is  a  resort  to  infidelity  or  universalism  to  re- 
lieve the  mind  from  presentiments  of  a  judgment  to 
come.  None  are  capable  of  thus  running  away 
from  the  light  of  truth  and  taking  shelter  in  impe- 
netrable darkness,  but  those  who  for  the  present 
are  abandoned  of  God.  We  read  of  some  who 
are  given  over  to  a  "  strong  delusion"  to  "  believe 
a  lie  that  they"  may  "  be  damned."  Such  a  plunge 
into  darkness  shows  a  resolute  determination  to  hide 
one's  self  from  the  light.  And  when  men  have  thus 
immured  themselves  in  cells  which  exclude  the  light 
of  heaven,  no  motives  to  seek  salvation  can  reach 
them.  Now  and  then  one  of  their  number  is  re- 
claimed by  the  invincible  grace  of  God;  but  by  far 
the  greater  part,  (judging  from  the  outward  indica- 
tions of  character,)  die  in  their  sins.  The  first  ap- 
proach to  these  cardinal  errors  therefore,  betrays 
as  violent  symptoms  of  eternal  destruction,  as  the 
first  attack  of  a  raging  fever  does  of  approaching 
death. 

Much  the  same  may  be  said  of  a  denial  of  the 
proper  divinity  of  Christ,  and  a  denial  of  total  de- 
pravity and  regeneration.  These,  as  they  tend 
with  all  their  influence  to  prevent  a  change  of  heart 
and  faith  in  a  divine  Redeemer,  tend  as  directly  to 
destruction  as  a  determined  abstinence  from  food 
does  to  death. 

The  next  token  of  perdition  which  I  shall  men- 
tion is  tliat  display  of  character  which  betrays  a 
false  hope  and  Vi  false  professioji.  I  believe  there  is 
no  instance  recorded  in  the  Bible  of  a  sinner's  being 


TOKENS    OF    PERDITION.  361 

rescued  from  a  false  hope,  unless  it  was  founded  on 
the  behef  of  a  false  religion.  In  the  short  period 
which  I  have  had  to  make  my  observations,  I  re- 
collect very  few  instances  of  persons  apparently  re- 
newed after  they  had  settled  down  for  years  upon 
a  false  hope,  and  with  that  hope  had  joined  the 
church.  Indeed  I  remember  but  one.  We  read 
of  tares  ;  we  read  of  foolish  virgins  ;  but  we  never 
read  of  their  conversion.  A  false  hope,  fortified 
by  a  false  profession,  is  the  most  effectual  battery 
against  the  artillery  of  the  Gospel.  The  truths  of 
the  divine  word  are  turned  off  to  others.  Speak- 
ing after  the  manner  of  men,  I  would  rather  under- 
take to  convince  ten  infidels,  than  to  demolish  one 
false  hope  intrenched  behind  the  pale  of  the  Church. 
It  is  easy  to  shake  the  hope  of  the  humble  christian, 
who  has  learned  the  deceitfulness  of  his  own  heart, 
and  is  always  prone  to  distrust  himself;  but  to  tear 
away  the  confidence  of  one  who,  instead  of  mak- 
ing God  his  hope,  makes  hope  his  god,  this  is  a 
task  too  mighty  for  an  arm  of  flesh.  A  thousand 
to  one  that  hypocrites  in  the  Church  will  die  hypo- 
crites still. 

This  being  the  case,  every  display  of  character 
which  bespeaks  a  false  hope  and  a  false  profession 
must  be  numbered  among  the  strong  tokens  of  per- 
dition ;  such  as  hatred  of  the  truth  ;  hatred  of  pun- 
gent, searching,  soul-humbling  preaching ;  unwil- 
lingness to  see  displayed  those  parts  of  the  divine 
character  and  government  which  are  most  grating 
to  the  carnal  heart;  a  proud,  worldly  spirit,  that 
refuses  to  come  out  from  the  world  and  take  up  the 

Vol.  I.  46 


TOKENS    OF    PERDITION. 


cross  and  lean  on  God,  and  in  religious  intercourse, 
to  adopt  the  simplicity  and  humility  of  a  little  child. 
All  these,  when  found  predominant  in  a  profession, 
must  be  put  down  as  strong  tokens  of  perdition. 

Another  token  of  perdition  is  the  approach  of  age 
without  religion.  So  far  as  man  can  judge  by  out- 
ward conduct  and  professions,  collected  and  com- 
pared from  generation  to  generation,  we  have  rea- 
son to  believe  that  the  greater  part  of  the  elect  are 
called  in  under  the  age  of  twenty,  and  that  few  are 
called  in  after  the  middle  of  life,  and  next  to  none 
in  advanced  age.  As  then  a  man  approaches  to 
thirty,  and  reaches  on  to  forty  in  an  unregenerated 
state,  the  tokens  of  perdition  are  thickening  upon 
him  every  year ;  and  by  the  time  he  has  arrived  at 
fifty,  they  are  as  thick  as  the  hairs  of  his  head.  In 
estimating  the  chances  of  one  who  has  reached  the 
middle  of  life  in  a  state  of  unregeneracy,  we  must 
ask  what  proportion  of  the  last  generation  w^ho  had 
lived  to  that  age  in  sin,  ever  gave  evidence  of  being 
born  again.  Did  one  in  ten  ?  Did  one  in  fifty  ? 
Did  one  in  a  hundred  ?  These  questions,  fairly 
examined,  would  disclose  dangers  clustering  around 
fifty,  around  forty,  and  even  around  thirty,  which 
I  am  afraid  to  number :  but  should  they  be  num- 
bered by  a  messenger  from  heaven,  every  sinner 
in  the  middle  of  life  would,  I  believe,  start  and 
tremble  little  less  than  at  the  judgment  of  the  great 
day. 

Another  token  of  perdition  is  a  state  of  carnal  se- 
curity. If  men  were  asleep  in  a  burning  house  and 
all  attempts  to  awaken  them  had  failed,  you  would 


TOKENS    OF    PERDITION.  363 

think  them  violently  exposed.  When  you  see  men 
lying  under  a  sentence  of  death, — of  death  eternal, 
— wafted  on  to  judgment  by  the  silent  tide  of  time, 
and  fast  asleep,  what  can  you  expect  for  them  but 
inevitable  destruction  ?  By  far  the  greater  part  of 
those  who  in  past  ages  were  caught  in  this  state  of 
slumber,  apparently  never  awoke  till  they  awoke  in 
eternity.  From  all  we  see  around  us,  we  know 
that  the  longer  they  sleep  the  sounder  they  sleep. 
The  man  therefore  who  is  now  sunk  in  carnal  se- 
curity, is  much  more  likely  to  sink  lower  and  lower 
till  he  dies,  than  ever  to  awake.  At  least  there  is 
not  a  single  symptom  in  his  favor.  We  know  it  is 
God's  method,  when  he  intends  to  bring  a  sinner 
home,  first  to  rouse  him  to  anxious  exertion.  But 
this  man  shows  no  sign  of  such  an  influence  upon 
him.  God  has  gone  to  others  and  let  him  alone, 
and  has  given  no  intimation  that  he  will  ever  return 
to  him.  There  is  not  one  symptom  that  this  man 
is  ever  to  be  saved.  Other  men  take  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  by  violence,  but  this  man  is  fast  asleep. 
So  much  is  to  be  done  and  he  has  never  yet  roused 
to  his  work.  When  is  this  mighty  task  to  be  per- 
formed ?  When  are  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the 
devil  to  be  subdued  ?  Months  and  years  are  pass- 
ing away,  and  the  man  has  never  yet  begun  his 
work.  Death  and  judgment  are  at  the  door,  and 
the  man  is  fast  asleep, — and  is  sinking  deeper  and 
deeper  in  slumber.  If  this  is  not  a  token  of  perdi- 
tion, where  will  you  find  one  this  side  of  perdition 
itself? 

Connected  with  this  are  two  or  three  other  to- 


364  TOKENS    OP    PERDITION. 

kens  worthy  of  a  distinct  enumeration.  Among 
these  may  be  reckoned  a  satisfaction  with  worldly 
good, — a  resting  in  the  creature  for  enjoyment, — a 
contentment  with  the  world  for  a  portion.  No 
sooner  had  the  rich  worldHng  said,  "  Soul,  take 
thine  ease ;  thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  many 
years ;"  than  the  word  came,  "  Thou  fool,  this 
night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  thee."  Another 
of  these  symptoms  is  a  loose  and  presumptuous  con- 
fidence in  God^s  mercy :  not  the  confidence  of  a  uni- 
versalist,  but  a  sort  of  general,  indefinite  reliance 
on  divine  mercy  which  shields  the  soul  from  fear 
while  slumbering  over  its  guilt.  This  is  one  of 
those  strong  links  which  bind  the  soul  to  death. 
Another  of  these  symptoms  is  an  increase  in  hard- 
ness as  men  increase  in  years.  When  men  find  that 
they  can  attend  funerals  and  hear  sermons  with  less 
solemnity  than  they  formerly  did, — that  they  can 
neglect  duty  with  less  compunction, — they  may 
write  it  down  that  they  have  spent  all  their  liVes  in 
growing  more  and  more  ripe  for  ruin.  And  what 
can  be  a  more  fearful  token  of  perdition  ? 

Another  token  of  perdition  is  the  profanation  of 
the  sabbath  and  the  neglect  of  the  means  of  grace. 
The  profanation  of  the  sabbath  in  its  more  flagrant 
forms,  might  indeed  have  been  numbered  among 
those  vicious  habits  which  form  the  very  vestibule  of 
perdition.  No  one  vice  is  more  destructive  ;  unit- 
ing in  it  the  sin  of  high-handed  disobedience,  and 
the  folly  of  casting  away  all  the  means  of  salvation. 
The  men  who  wholly  neglect  the  sanctuary  and 
spend  the  day  in  riding  or  in  sports,  are  about  as 


TOKENS    OF    PERDITION.  365 

far  gone  on  the  road  to  perdition  as  the  culprits  in 
your  dungeons.  But  there  is  a  class  of  more  de- 
cent people,  who,  though  not  so  certainly  lost,  still 
bear  upon  them  this  token  of  perdition.  The  so- 
lemn consecration  of  all  the  hours  of  the  sabbath  to 
hearing,  reading,  meditation,  and  prayer,  compre- 
hends the  use  of  the  greater  part  of  the  means  of 
salvation ;  and  if  this  part  is  omitted  the  rest  will 
mostly  be  neglected.  And  if  means  are  neglected, 
the  soul  will  be  lost.  If  means  are  not  generally 
and  solemnly  and  thoroughly  used,  it  is  in  vain  to 
appear  now  and  then  in  the  house  of  God  ;  the  soul 
must  still  be  lost.  Those  then  who  attend  at  the 
hours  of  public  worship,  but  spend  the  rest  of  the 
day  in  reading  newspapers,  talking  about  the  world, 
making  visits  or  posting  their  books,  bear  about 
them  evident  tokens  of  perdition.  They  show  that 
their  attendance  in  the  sanctuary  had  no  influence 
on  their  minds,  and  that  they  are  at  least  as  bad  as 
though  they  had  staid  at  home.  Those  also  who 
visit  the  house  of  God  but  once  a  day,  and  spend 
the  rest  of  the  time  in  sleep  or  amusements  or  in 
doing  nothing,  bear  still  more  evident  tokens  of  per- 
dition. Their  absence  in  the  afternoon  proves  that 
the  morning  attendance  did  them  no  good,  and  that 
they  are  in  no  better  but  in  a  worse  case  than  those 
who  have  no  means  at  all.  Not  widely  diff'erent 
are  the  remarks  to  be  made  on  those  who  come  to 
the  house  of  God  to  sleep.  Two  observations  will 
comprehend  the  circumstances  of  their  case.  The 
first  is,  that  they  show  full  well  that  means  have 
hitherto  done  them  no  good.     The  second  is,  that 


366 


TOKENS    OF    PERDITION. 


means  are  never  likely  to  benefit  them  in  future. 
If  ever  the  arrows  of  truth  reach  their  hearts,  it  is 
likely  to  be  in  the  sanctuary:  but  how  can  the  ar- 
rows of  truth  reach  them  while  they  sleep  ?  The 
hours  which  they  spend  in  the  house  of  God  may 
be  called  the  crisis  of  their  fate ;  and  that  crisis 
they  sleep  away.  Good  men  may  have  occasional 
infirmities  of  this  nature,  but  I  speak  of  those  who 
have  formed  this  indecency  into  a  habit,  and  as  re- 
gularly sleep  as  they  appear  in  the  sanctuary.  I 
have  attempted  to  look  on  all  sides  of  the  position 
I  am  about  to  advance,  and  I  utter  it  with  the  most 
serious  deliberation  :  these  people  must  break  this  ha- 
bit or  lose  their  souls.  The  habit  then,  while  it  lasts, 
is  a  fearful  token  of  perdition. 

There  is  one  token  which  falls  under  this  general 
class  to  which  I  wish  to  draw  your  particular  atten- 
tion. I  mean  the  neglect  oj'  prayer.  Who  does 
not  see  that  this  is  the  direct  course  to  perdition  ? 
Since  the  days  of  Adam,  who  that  could  pronounce 
the  name  of  God  ever  went  to  heaven  without  pray- 
er ?  Who  can  think  of  receiving  eternal  hfe  if  he 
will  not  so  much  as  ask  for  it?  Who  can  think 
himself  prepared  to  enjoy  the  presence  of  God, 
while  driven  from  prayer  by  aversion  to  that  very 
presence  ?  Who  can  expect  to  receive  an  infinite 
gift  from  that  God  whom  he  thus  hates  and  diso- 
beys ?  Continuing  thus,  he  is  lost  as  sure  as  there 
is  a  God  in  heaven.  The  man  then  who  neglects 
prayer,  is  covered  from  head  to  foot  with  the  tokens 
of  perdition. 
Another  token  of  perdition  is  a  contention  against 


TOKENS    OF    PERDITION.  367 

the  truth  and  a  demand  of  the  prophets  to  prophesy 
smooth  things.  If  there  is  ary  thing  which  can  in- 
strumentally  save  lost  sinners,  it  is  the  plain  simple 
truth  as  it  lies  in  God's  word,  without  varnish  or 
disguise.  If  men  will  not  allow  this  to  be  presented 
to  them  in  all  its  length  and  breadth,  they  will  not 
allow  themselves  to  be  saved.  They  lock  in  its 
scabbard  the  only  sword  that  can  pierce  their 
hearts.  They  refuse  to  be  approached  with  the 
only  antidote  to  the  poison  which  corrodes  their 
veins.  If  they  can  succeed  ;  if  they  cati  convince 
ministers  that  it  is  better  to  obey  men  than  God ; 
if  they  can  find  preachers  more  influenced  by  self- 
ishness than  pity ;  then  indeed  they  will  have  their 
desire  and  inherit  the  death  they  seek.  At  any  rate 
this  is  a  most  portentous  symptom.  When  the  dis- 
heartened patient  refuses  to  take  medicine,  or  any 
thing  but  poison,  why  he  must  die.  When  men 
firmly  resolve  that  they  will  not  have  the  whole 
naked  truth,  and  authoritatively  demand  smoother 
things,  it  looks  like  a  desperate  purpose ;  it  looks 
like  a  determination  to  take  the  plunge.  It  bears 
upon  its  forel  ead  the  broad,  burnished  mark  of 
perdition. 

Another  token  of  perdition  is  the  rejection  oj  many 
calls.  It  has  been  said  from  heaven,  "  My  Spirit 
shall  not  always  strive  with  man ;"  and,  "  He  that, 
being  often  reproved,  hardeneth  his  neck,  shall 
suddenly  be  destroyed,  and  that  without  remedy." 
The  man  then  who  has  long  sat  under  the  sound  of 
the  Gospel  without  obeying  the  truth,  bears  about 
him  an  evident  token  of  perdition.     The  man  who 


368  TOKENS    OP    PERDITION. 

has  often  been  called  by  affliction,  and  still  holds 
out  against  God,  shows  an  evident  token  of  perdi- 
tion. But  of  all  men,  the  man  who  in  former 
months  or  years  was  awakened  by  the  divine  Spirit 
and  has  relapsed  into  stupidity,  bears  the  strongest 
token  of  perdition.  For  I  read,  "  It  is  impossible 
for  those  who  were  once  enlightened, — and  have 
tasted  the  good  word  of  God  and  the  powers  of  the 
world  to  come,  if  they  shall  fall  away,  to  renew 
them  again  unto  repentance."  "  For  if  we  sin  wil- 
fully after  that  we  have  received  the  knowledge  of 
the  truth,  there  remaineth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sins, 
but  a  certain  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  and 
fiery  indignation  which  shall  devour  the  adversa- 
ries." Before  he  received  that  special  call,  me- 
thinks  a  voice  said,  "  Behold,  these  three  years  I 
come  seeking  fruit  on  this  fig  tree  and  find  none  ; 
cut  it  down,  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  ?"  And 
another  voice  said,  "  Lord,  let  it  alone  this  year 
also,  till  I  shall  dig  about  it  and  dung  it ;  and  if  it 
bear  fruit,  well ;  and  if  not,  then  after  that  thou 
shalt  cut  it  down."  That  experiment  was  made ; 
that  special  cultivation  was  applied  in  the  very  mo- 
tions of  the  Spirit  which  he  resisted  ;  and  now  per- 
haps he  is  sealed  over,  like  the  fig  tree  by  the  way 
side,  to  perpetual  barrenness,  and  left  to  grow  drier 
and  drier  to  feed  a  fiercer  flame  ;  resigned  by  mercy 
itself  into  the  hands  of  justice,  with  this  sentence, 
"  Then — thou  shalt  cut  it  down."  Of  all  men  this 
man  bears  the  strongest  marks  of  being  abandoned 
to  perdition. 

Although  I  have  enumerated  these  tokens  dis- 


TOKENS    OF    PERDITION.  369 

tinctly,  I  am  aware  that  in  many  instances  they 
cluster.  Half  a  dozen  of  them  may  be  found  on 
the  same  man ;  all  may  be  found  on  some.  Let  us 
see  how  many  of  them  my  impenitent  hearers  can 
find  upon  themselves.  Vicious  habits, — lingering 
notions  of  infidelity  or  universalism  or  other  sooth- 
ing errors, — indications  of  false  hopes  and  false  pro- 
fessions,— unsanctified  age, — carnal  security, — a 
satisfaction  with  worldly  good, — a  loose,  presump- 
tuous confidence  in  divine  mercy, — increasing  hard- 
ness,— profanation  of  the  Sabbath, — neglect  of 
God's  house  or  attendance  half  a  day, — sleeping  at 
church, — neglect  of  prayer, — contention  against  the 
truth  and  a  demand  for  smooth  preaching, — the  re- 
jection of  many  calls, — and  lastly,  a  relapse  into 
stupidity  after  being  awakened  by  the  Spirit  of  God. 
If  to  bear  one  of  these  tokens  is  so  alarming,  how 
ought  a  man  to  feel  who  finds  upon  himself  the 
greater  part  of  them  all  ?  My  dear  hearer,  how 
many  of  these  marks  of  death  do  you  find  upon 
yourself?  Can  you  not  now  see  that  for  a  long  time 
"  gray  hairs"  have  been  here  and  there  upon  you 
and  you  knew  it  not  ?  One  of  these  marks  is  more 
alarming  than  that  which  was  stamped  upon  Cain. 
In  what  language  then  shall  I  address  the  man  on 
whom  six  or  eight  of  them  cluster  ?  If  I  saw  upon 
you  six  or  eight  of  the  most  decisive  symptoms  of 
approaching  death,  I  should  give  you  up  for  lost : 
must  I  do  it  now  ?  Your  danger  is  doubtless  un- 
speakable. It  is  impossible  not  to  see  that  the 
chances  are  far  greater  against  you  than  for  you. 
I  know  that  the  power  and  mercy  of  God  are  great : 

Vol.  I.  47 


370  TOKENS    OF    PERDITION. 

that  furnishes  a  gleam  of  hope :  but  then  we  have 
not  been  accustomed  to  see  that  power  exerted  in 
many  instances  equally  alarming.  What  God  will 
do  we  cannot  tell ;  but  when  we  consider  your  case 
in  itself  we  almost  despair.  Six  or  eight  decisive 
tokens  of  perdition  clustering  on  the  same  person, 
and  that  person  asleep  !  Is  he  distracted  or  is  he 
dead  ?  Had  I  an  angel's  voice  I  could  not  paint 
the  madness.  Going  on  to  the  bar  of  God  ;  going 
on  to  meet  omnipotent  purity, — to  meet  all  the  jus- 
tice and  power  in  the  universe  !  going  on  under 
guilt  enough  to  sink  a  world,  and  under  an  actual 
sentence  of  death!  going  on  under  six  or  eight  of 
the  most  formidable  tokens  of  perdition  !  Struck 
with  death,  with  eternal  death  already,  and  six  or 
eight  of  its  most  decisive  symptoms  upon  you,  and 
you  asleep  !  I  leave  you  there  as  a  monument  for 
affected  angels  to  gaze  at,  to  tremble  over,  and 
weep. 


SERMON  VII. 


THE  HEATH  IN  THE  DESERT. 


Jer.  XVII.  5,  6.* 


Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Cursed  be  the  man  that  trusteth  in  man  and  ma- 
keth  flesh  his  arm,  and  whose  heart  departeth  from  the  Lord.  For  he 
shall  be  like  the  heath  in  the  desert,  and  shall  not  see  when  good  cometh, 
but  shall  inhabit  the  parched  places  in  the  wilderness,  in  a  salt  land  and 
not  inhabited. 

The  Jews  had  withdrawn  their  dependance  from 
God  and  looked  for  protection  to  themselves  and 
the  auxiliary  powers  of  Egypt.  The  consequence 
was  that  they  were  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the 
Babylonians  to  be  desolated  and  destroyed.  To 
this  our  text  had  primary  reference.  But  it  was  in- 
tended to  apply  to  men  in  every  age.  Instances 
are  never  wanting  of  those  who  put  their  trust  in 
man  and  whose  hearts  depart  from  the  Lord ;  and 
they  are  always  like  the  heath  in  the  desert. 

We  find  two  definitions  given  of  a  heath.    It  is  a 

*  Preached  in  a  revival  of  religion. 


273  THE    HEATH 

shrub  which  grows  in  barren  places  ;  and  the  name 
is  appHed  to  the  extended  plains  of  the  Arabian  de- 
sert, which  are  covered  with  barren  sand,  with  here 
and  there  a  few  unsightly  shrubs.  This  inhospita- 
ble desert,  except  at  the  equinoxes,  is  seldom  visit- 
ed with  rain ;  and  the  few  vegetables  it  produces 
barely  subsist  by  the  refreshment  aftbrded  by  the 
nightly  dews.  From  this  neighboring  country  many 
images  were  borrowed  to  illustrate  the  subjects  and 
adorn  the  writings  of  the  prophets.  It  is  not  mate- 
rial in  which  sense  the  word  is  understood  in  the 
text.  It  well  illustrates  the  meaning  in  either  sense. 
Those  barren  deserts,  equally  with  the  languishing 
shrubs  which  they  produce,  do  not  see  when  good 
cometh.  Showers  may  fall  on  the  mountains  of 
Canaan,  but  neither  the  sand  of  the  desert  nor  the 
parched  shrubs  imbibe  the  refreshing  moisture. 
But  I  choose  to  consider  the  allusion  as  made  to 
the  sandy  plains.  While  the  trees  of  Canaan  spread 
out  their  roots  by  the  rivers  and  the  dew  lies  all 
night  upon  their  branches;  while  the  bosom  of 
God's  vineyard  receives  the  rains  of  heaven,  and 
like  a  well  watered  garden,  sends  forth  its  pleasant 
fruits, — the  rose  of  Sharon  and  the  lily  of  the  val- 
leys ; — while  the  eye,  perched  on  Pisgah,  is  filled 
with  the  luxuriant  scene,  spread  over  the  holy  moun- 
tains, and  sees  grouped  together,  in  sweet  confu- 
sion, gardens  of  myrrh,  orchards  of  pomegranates, 
and  trees  of  frankincense  ;  the  desolate  wastes  of 
the  Arabian  heaths,  doomed  to  eternal  deformity 
and  barrenness,  never  see  when  good  cometh. 
We  may  now  look  on  the  text  with  perhaps  in- 


IN    THE    DESERT.  373 

creased  interest.  "Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Cursed 
be  the  man  that  trusteth  in  man  and  maketh  flesh 
his  arm,  and  whose  heart  departeth  from  the  Lord. 
For  he  shall  be  like  the  heath  in  the  desert,  and 
shall  not  see  when  good  cometh,  but  shall  inhabit 
the  parched  places  in  the  wilderness,  in  a  salt  land 
and  not  inhabited." 

Let  us  first  ascertain  against  whom  so  vehement 
a  curse  is  denounced,  and  then  trace  the  resem- 
blance between  them  and  the  heath  in  the  desert. 

The  persons  alluded  to  are  those  who  disclaim 
dependance  on  God  and  whose  hearts  of  course 
depart  from  him.  Idolaters  of  every  kind,  avowed 
infidels,  and  all  the  openly  profane,  obviously  fall 
under  this  description.  But  I  shall  rather  select 
three  classes  otherwise  defined,  believing  that  what 
is  said  of  them  will  better  apply  to  my  hearers  than 
observations  pointed  at  infidelity  or  open  vice. 

1.  Those  fall  under  this  condemnation  who, 
though  outwardly  decent,  have  no  realizing  sense 
that  they  are  utterly  dependant  on  God  for  happi- 
ness, and  that  all  true  happiness  consists  in  the  en- 
joyment of  him ;  who  consequently  spend  their  life 
in  searching  for  happiness  among  the  lumber  of 
worldly  objects;  whose  secret  influencing  feeling  is 
that  they  are  independent  of  God,  that  if  they  can 
collect  such  an  amount  of  wealth  and  honor  they 
can  be  happy  without  asking  leave  of  him,  and  who 
are  so  occupied  in  these  pursuits  as  scarcely  to 
think  of  him  from  day  to  day.  Such  people  act  in 
many  respects  as  though  there  was  no  God  who  is 
constantly  supporting  their  lives, — no  God  on  whom 


374  THE    HEATH 

they  are  in  all  points  dependant, — no  God  whose 
eyes  search  them  through  and  through, — no  God 
who  will  call  them  to  a  strict  and  awful  account  for 
the  misimprovement  of  their  talents  and  privileges, 
for  their  infinite  ingratitude  and  abuse  of  his  pa- 
tience. They  plainly  trust  in  other  things  for  hap- 
piness, and  think  that  if  they  can  gain  the  world 
they  can  be  happy  without  asking  leave  of  God. 
One  consideration  proves  it  true.  They  do  not 
ask  leave  of  God  to  be  happy.  In  the  morning 
they  are  so  anxious  to  hurry  into  the  business  of 
the  day  where  they  think  their  happiness  lies,  that 
they  do  not  assemble  their  families  and  humbly  ask 
leave  of  God  to  be  happy  that  day.  They  do  not 
even  make  this  petition  in  their  closets.  And  is  it 
not  plain  that  their  secret  influencing  feeUng  is  they 
need  not  ask  this  leave  of  him  ? 

The  prayerless,  the  stupid,  and  the  worldly  are 
therefore  of  the  number  who  inherit  the  curse  de- 
nounced in  the  text. 

2.  There  is  another  class  of  men  who  fall  under 
this  condemnation.  They  are  not  indeed  stupid 
and  prayerless,  but  anxious  and  constant  in  the  use 
of  means,  thinking  that  now  they  are  making  pro- 
gress towards  heaven.  But  Avhat  destroys  the  va- 
lue of  all  their  endeavors  is,  that  they  put  their  trust 
in  man  and  make  flesh  their  arm.  They  look  for 
relief  to  ministers  and  christians,  to  their  own  re- 
formation, prayers,  and  good  resolutions.  By  pre- 
sent strictness  and  devotion  they  hope  to  make 
amends  for  past  oflfences,  and  by  the  fervor  of  their 
cries  to  inspire  God  with  mercy.    And  when  they 


IN    THE    DESERT.  375 

have  been  a  little  more  engaged  than  usual,  they 
flatter  themselves  that  now  his  resentments  are  in 
some  measure  disarmed.  Neglecting  to  fix  all 
their  dependance  on  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 
as  the  sole  Author  of  a  gracious  salvation,  they  are 
still  under  the  curse  denounced  against  those  who 
make  flesh  their  arm;  and  instead  of  advancing 
nearer  to  God,  their  hearts  are  constantly  depart- 
ing from  him.  Mistaken  souls!  they  are  much  far- 
ther from  the  kingdom  of  heaven  than  they  imagine. 
They  have  indeed  some  little  sense  of  sin,  but  they 
have  no  adequate  impression  of  the  amazing  pollu- 
tion of  their  hearts, — that  from  the  crown  to  the 
foot  there  is  no  soundness,  but  one  entire  mass  of 
corruption.  And  they  are  not  overwhelmed  with 
astonishment  that  so  much  selfishness,  pride,  and 
idolatry,  so  much  unbelief  and  hatred  of  God,  so 
much  ingratitude  and  stupidity,  so  much  neglect  of 
prayer  and  profanation  of  the  sabbath,  should  be 
kept,  by  long  suflfering  mercy,  so  long  out  of  hell. 
They  do  by  no  means  see  the  full  extent  of  their 
ruin,  and  therefore  do  not  feel  that  they  are  utterly 
undone,  helpless  and  hopeless  in  themselves,  and 
unsusceptible  of  deliverance  from  the  infinite  depths 
of  their  misery  but  by  almighty  grace.  Could  they 
once  obtain  a  clear  view  of  their  awful  depravity, 
they  would  renounce  every  thought  of  doing  any- 
thing to  help  themselves,  or  that  all  created  power 
would  help  them,  and  would  lie  on  their  faces  in 
sackcloth  and  ashes,  and  think  of  nothing  but  to 
cry,  day  and  night,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sin- 
ner."   Let  them  once  see  themselves  as  God  sees 


376  THE    HEATH 

them,  and  they  would  no  longer  be  but  half  in  earn- 
est, divided  between  salvation  and  the  world.  They 
would  feel  that  matters  have  come  to  a  most  urgent 
crisis,  that  there  is  no  more  time  to  be  lost,  and 
would  cast  themselves  in  haste  upon  the  Saviour  as 
the  only  hope  of  sinners.  But  as  they  now  are, 
they  are  bending  under  the  ponderous  curse  de- 
nounced against  those  who  put  their  trust  in  man 
and  whose  hearts  depart  from  the  Lord. 

3.  There  is  still  another  class  under  this  curse. 
They  are  not  neglectful  of  religious  forms;  they 
are  not  awakened  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  They  are 
chained  to  death  by  a  false  hope.  Some  of  them 
are  in  the  Church,  some  are  out ;  but  whether  out 
or  in,  they  are  depending  on  a  form  of  godliness 
without  the  power.  Punctual  as  others  perhaps  in 
their  attendance  on  ordinances,  they  are  never 
roused  to  strong  desires  and  efforts  for  the  Redeem- 
er's kingdom.  Though  "  the  secret  of  the  Lord 
is  with  them  that  fear  him,"  yet  he  comes  to  build 
up  Zion  without  telling  them.  Though  he  comes  in 
answer  to  the  prayers  of  his  people,  they  must  know 
it  is  not  in  answer  to  theirs.  Though  at  such  a  sea- 
son the  children  of  God  have  groanings  which  can- 
not be  uttered,  they,  except  a  little  animal  sympathy, 
remain  as  cold  as  ever.  They  sleep  "  in  harvest," 
and  therefore  have  the  decisive  mark  of  a  "  son  that 
causeth  shame."  Such  a  season  as  this  is  the  grand 
test  to  discover  false  hopes.  The  wise  and  foolish 
virgins  slept  together  undistinguished  till  the  bride- 
groom came.  Never  till  the  wheat  grew  were  the 
tares  known ;  "  but  when  the  blade  was  sprung  up 


IN    THE    DESERT.  377 

and  brought  forth  fruit,  then  appeared  the  tares 
also." 

This  is  represented  as  a  very  numerous  class 
even  in  the  Church  of  Christ.  "  Five — were  wise 
and  five  were  foolish." 

Having  thus  found  three  classes  who  fall  under 
the  sentence  of  the  text,  I  will  search  no  farther 
for  objects  of  the  curse,  but  will  proceed  to  show 
how  these  resemble  the  heath  in  the  desert.  I  will 
still  consider  the  three  classes  distinctly. 

First,  of  the  prayerless,  the  stupid,  and  the 
worldly.     These  resemble  the  heath, 

1.  In  their  barrenness  and  deformity.  Their 
Creator  gave  them  abundant  powers  to  bring  forth 
fruit.  He  has  cultivated  them  by  the  selectest 
means ;  by  his  word  and  ordinances,  by  "  precept 
upon  precept,  line  upon  line,"  by  his  sabbaths  and 
a  preached  Gospel,  by  his  long  and  pleading  calls, 
by  the  often  repeated  influences  of  his  Spirit ;  until 
he  can  appeal  to  heaven  and  earth,  "  What  could 
have  been  done  more  to  my  vineyard  that  I  have 
not  done  in  it  ?"  And  after  all  his  pains,  and  not- 
withstanding his  undeniable  claims  to  the  fruits  of 
his  own  vineyard,  when  he  comes  year  after  year 
seeking  fruit  therein,  he  finds  it  only  a  barren  heath, 
yielding  nothing  to  recompense  his  pains.  Noth- 
ing ?  aye  worse  than  nothing, — a  crop  of  mis- 
shapen shrubs  which  only  offend  the  sight  and  ren- 
der the  heath  still  more  forlorn.  When  he  looked 
for  fruit  it  brought  forth  wild  fruit, — the  grapes  of 
Sodom  and  the  clusters  of  Gomorrah.  Instead  of 
consecrating  their  powers  to  God  which  is  their  rea- 

VOL.  1.  48 


378  THE    HEATH 

sonable  service,  they  devote  them  to  rebellion.  In- 
stead of  blessing  him  for  their  existence  and  all  his 
hourly  mercies,  they  cherish  enmity  against  him. 
Though  he  created  the  world  and  furnished  it  and 
placed  them  in  it  on  purpose  to  serve  him,  and  has 
supported  them  so  many  years  that  they  might  live 
and  labor  for  him ;  though  he  has  redeemed  them 
from  eternal  death  to  give  them  still  an  opportunity 
to  serve  him ;  though  he  has  so  long  kept  them  out 
of  hell  on  the  express  condition  that  they  should 
devote  their  lengthened  lives  to  his  service,  and  has 
waited  upon  them  and  labored  with  them  for  so 
many  years,  under  so  many  discouragements,  to  see 
if  at  length  they  would  not  feel  some  ingenuous 
compunctions  and  return  to  his  service ;  yet,  to  the 
shame  of  all  creation,  they  refuse  to  serve  him  still. 
Their  lives  are  wholly  taken  up  in  dishonoring 
him.  What  visage  is  not  covered  with  shame  and 
what  heart  is  not  filled  with  grief  at  sight  of  such 
unfeeling  depravity  ? 

2.  They  resemble  the  heath  in  that  they  are  deso- 
late, forsaken,  and  unblest.  The  desert  is  un- 
cheered  by  any  of  those  pleasant  scenes  which  fill 
the  vales  of  Canaan  with  gladness.  No  voice  of 
joy  or  song  is  heard  on  the  heath.  While  those 
who  wait  on  God  are  refreshed  like  Eden  after  rain, 
when  she  sends  forth  her  fragrance  as  from  a  thou- 
sand altars  of  incense ;  these,  like  sandy  deserts, 
are  the  seats  only  of  desolation  and  wo.  "  The 
wicked  are  like  the  troubled  sea  when  it  cannot  rest, 
whose  waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt.  There  is  no 
peace,  saith  my  God,  to  the  wicked."     "  The  way 


IN   THE    DESERT.  379 

of  transgressors  is  hard,"  "  and  the  way  of  peace 
have  they  not  known."  But  the  ways  of  wisdom 
"  are  ways  of  pleasantness  and  all  her  paths  are 
peace."  "  Great  peace  have  they  which  love  thy 
law,  and  nothing  shall  offend  them ;"  "  and  in  keep- 
ing of"  it  "  there  is  great  reward."  It  is  a  just  de- 
cree of  heaven  that  those  who  consume  their  lives 
in  sin  should  consume  them  in  sorrow, — that  those 
who  resemble  the  heath  in  deformity  and  barrenness, 
should  resemble  it  in  desolation  and  wo. 

3.  In  times  of  special  refreshment  in  Canaan  the 
heath  knows  not  "  when  good  cometh."  While 
the  holy  land  is  wet  with  drops  from  the  yearning 
eye  of  heaven,  and  sends  forth  leaves  of  the  palm- 
tree  and  clusters  of  the  vine,  the  Arabic^n  deserts, 
fated  to  be  parched  with  everlasting  drought,  re- 
main as  desolate  as  before.  This  feature  of  resem- 
blance is  deeply  affecting  in  such  a  day  as  this. 
While  showers  of  grace  are  watering  the  rest  of 
the  land  and  calling  forth  fruits  from  every  rood  of 
holy  ground,  these  barren  sands  know  not  when 
good  cometh.  While  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  passing 
by  and  some  are  as  solemn  as  eternity,  these  can 
go  jocundly  along  to  their  labors  and  diversions, 
and,  Gallio-like,  care  for  none  of  these  things. 
While  others  with  anxious  tears  are  entreatinjr  to 
know  what  they  shall  do  to  be  saved,  these,  as 
though  they  had  no  souls,  are  locking  themselves 
up  from  thought  and  burying  themselves  in  business 
and  pleasure.  Perhaps  God  comes  near  them  and 
plucks  some  from  ruin  before  their  eyes.  Perhaps 
he  enters  their  houses  and  takes  one  from  their  ta- 


380 


THE    HEATH 


ble  and  another  from  their  bed  ;  but  they,  as  though 
locked  fast  in  the  slumbers  of  eternal  death,  take 
little  notice  of  what  is  passing.  Instead  of  seizing 
the  golden  moment  of  calling  upon  God  while  he 
is  near,  they  lose  the  opportunity,  though  it  is  pro- 
bably the  last  that  they  ever  will  have  before  they 
are  either  in  eternity  or  hardened  past  recovery. 
Are  not  such  people  distracted  ?  Why  do  they  not 
arise  and  call  upon  God  before  destruction  over- 
whelms them  ? 

4.  The  showers  which  sometimes  fall  on  the 
Arabian  heaths,  instead  of  rendering  them  fruitful, 
serve  only  to  promote  the  growth  of  the  misshapen 
shrubs  which  render  their  deformity  still  more  dis- 
figured. In  like  manner  the  influences  of  heaven, 
which  sometimes  fall  on  this  class  of  men,  serve 
only  to  stir  up  their  pride  and  enmity,  to  call  forth 
a  more  fatal  resistance  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  sink 
them  into  seven  fold  stupidity  and  hardness,  and  in 
many  instances  to  seal  their  eternal  doom. 

5.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  many  of  these  persons 
resemble  the  heath  in  a  still  more  awful  respect. 
The  heath  can  never  be  made  a  fruitful  field. 
Whatever  showers  fall  upon  it,  it  still  remains  a 
wide,  dreary  waste  of  sand.  With  all  my  heart  I 
should  be  glad  to  hope  that  none  of  my  hearers  an- 
swer this  description:  yet  alas  is  there  not  too 
much  reason  to  fear  it !  God  has  exhausted  means 
upon  them,  but  in  vain.  He  has  called  them  by  his 
word,  by  his  Spirit,  and  by  his  providence.  He 
has  torn  their  friends  from  their  bleeding  side  and 
lodged  them  in  the  grave.     He  has  laid  them  upon 


IN    THE    DESERT.  381 

beds  of  sickness  and  brought  them  to  look  death  in 
the  face.  All  has  been  done  that  means  could  do, 
but  all  to  no  purpose.  Is  there  not  solemn  reason 
to  fear  that  nothing  will  ever  avail?  And  even 
now,  in  this  day  of  merciful  visitation,  their  pride, 
and  perhaps  their  malignity,  is  arrayed  against  eve- 
ry impression  and  is  fearfully  resisting  the  Holy 
Ghost;  and  they  are  likely  to  remain  inveterate 
until  the  season  is  past  and  they  are  perhaps  sealed. 
At  any  rate  there  is  little  probability  that  they  will 
be  called  in  in  stupid  times,  or  that  they  will  both 
live  to  see  and  have  a  heart  to  improve  another  re- 
vival. What  are  such  people  dreaming  about  that 
they  do  not  break  from  their  slumbers,  like  men 
awoke  in  a  burning  house,  and  flee  for  their  lives  ? 
It  is  too  probable  that  the  ruin  of  some  of  them  is 
already  sealed,  and  that  while  they  are  looking  for- 
ward to  future  conversion,  it  is  settled  by  a  judi- 
cial sentence  that  such  an  event  shall  never  take 
place.  This  may  be  the  case  with  some  who  are 
turning  these  things  off  upon  others,  with  little 
thought  that  they  are  the  very  persons  intended. 
And  yet  for  this  self  same  reason  they  are  likely  to 
be  the  very  persons. 

After  what  has  been  said  it  will  not  be  diflicult  to 
discover  in  what  respects  the  second  class  resemble 
the  heath  in  the  desert.  They  still  retain  their  false 
dependencies  and  their  hearts  depart  from  the  Lord. 
All  the  showers  which  have  fallen  on  these  desolate 
wastes  have  only  called  forth  certain  weeds  into 
greater  luxuriance.  The  light  thrown  on  the  divine 
character  has  only  increased  their  enmity.     They 


382  THE    HEATH 

are  sinning  against  greater  knowledge  and  greater 
mercy  than  they  ever  did  before.  In  these  respects 
they  never  sinned  at  so  great  a  rate.  While  others 
who  have  had  similar  calls  are  made  rich  for  eter- 
nity, these  do  not  see  when  good  cometh.  They 
remain  desolate  and  uncheered  by  those  consola- 
tions which  gladden  the  hearts  of  God's  people. 
And  it  is  but  too  probable  that  some  of  them  con- 
tinuing unfruitful  under  all  cultivation  will  be  doom- 
ed, like  the  heath,  to  perpetual  barrenness. 

Some  of  the  awakened  may  here  feel  themselves 
hard  pressed  and  be  ready  to  say,  I  cannot  change 
my  own  heart:  I  do  the  best  I  can,  and  what  can  I 
do  more  ?  If  by  the  best  you  can  you  mean  the  best 
that  you  are  disposed  to  do,  the  same  is  true  of  the 
thief  and  the  robber.  But  if  you  claim  to  act  up  to 
the  full  extent  of  your  natural  powers,  the  word  of 
God  is  against  you.  That  declares  that  you  have 
eyes  but  see  not,  and  ears  but  hear  not,  and  places 
all  your  embarrassment  in  the  depravity  of  your 
heart, — in  just  such  a  heart  as  prevents  the  male- 
volent man  from  loving  his  neighbor  and  the  thief 
from  being  honest:  and  if  you  can  thus  excuse  your- 
selves, the  whole  race  of  sinners  in  earth  and  hell 
will  cover  themselves  with  the  same  plea. 

Will  you  pretend  that  you  do  the  best  you  can? 
the  best  you  can  for  a  single  day?  How  little  time 
do  you  devote  to  secret  prayer.  How  many  words 
and  actions  which  you  know  to  be  wrong  escape 
you.  O  could  you  see  the  infinite  wickedness  of 
your  hearts  and  lives,  you  would  drop  all  these  ex- 
cuses in  a  moment  and  vent  your  whole  soul  in  the 


IN    THE    DESERT.  383 

impassioned  cry,  "  God,  be  merciful  to  me  a  sin- 
ner." But  as  it  is,  you  lie  under  the  fearful  curse 
denounced  against  those  who  make  flesh  their  arm 
and  whose  hearts  depart  from  the  Lord.  Take  in 
this  opiate  a  little  longer  and  the  day  of  grace  will 
be  past,  and  you  must  remain  like  the  heath  in  the 
desert  which  never  sees  when  good  cometh. 

The  third  class  resemble  the  heath  in  deformity 
and  barrenness.  Though  they  resort  to  sacraments 
and  transact  with  covenants,  or  at  least  hope  in 
God's  mercy,  they  never  bring  forth  fruit.  Through 
all  their  souls  the  eye  of  God  sees  nothing  better 
than  sin.  They  are  desolate  and  without  consola- 
tion. The  influences  of  heaven  fall  on  others,  but 
they  remain  the  same.  In  all  the  bursting  glory 
of  a  revival,  they  remain  much  the  same.  And  so 
they  will  remain  in  all  probability  till  they  die  and 
take  their  place  with  Judas  and  with  Ananias  and 
Sapphira.  O  it  will  be  a  fearful  thing  to  go  down 
with  them  from  hopes  and  sacraments  and  vows. 
Ten  thousand  times  will  you  wish  that  you  had  been 
born  a  heathen,  that  you  had  lived  an  infidel,  that 
you  had  died  like  the  despairing  Voltaire  and 
Hume.  Any  thing  but  to  go  down  from  a  hope  in 
Christ  and  from  the  privileges  of  the  christian 
church. 

I  know  I  have  been  long  already,  but  I  cannot 
stop.  Let  me  come  nearer  to  these  three  classes 
and  pour  upon  them  my  whole  soul. 

1.  I  will  address  myself  to  those  who,  wholly  bu- 
ried in  the  world,  cast  oflf  fear  and  restrain  prayer. 
Unhappy  men,  for  one  moment  examine  the  ground 


384  THE    HEATH 

on  which  you  stand.  While  you  are  living  thought- 
less of  your  Maker  you  are  altogether  in  his  hands. 
You  are  constantly  suspended  over  the  burning  lake 
on  the  palm  of  the  hand  of  an  angry  God.  You 
slept  there  all  last  night ;  you  lie  there  to-day:  and 
should  he  turn  his  hand  you  fall  to  rise  no  more. 
While  you  are  dreaming  that  if  you  could  obtain 
so  much  of  the  world  you  would  have  no  occasion 
to  ask  leave  of  God  to  be  happy,  and  while  you  are 
practically  saying  that  you  have  no  need  of  him, 
but  can  break  your  way  through  and  be  happy 
though  he  be  your  enemy,  think  for  a  moment, — 
mortal  man,  what  are  you  about?  How  easy  for  him 
to  dash  your  hopes  in  ten  thousand  ways.  When 
you  arise  in  the  morning  and  hurry  into  the  business 
of  the  day  without  calling  on  his  name,  thinking 
that  you  can  find  happiness  without  him,  how  easy 
for  him  to  turn  his  hand  and  let  you  down  into  hell 
before  night.  Where  is  your  reason  that  in  your 
circumstances  you  can  set  up  for  independence? 
you  who  every  moment  need  so  much  done  for  you. 
While  lying  under  the  wrath  of  God  and  in  such 
perishing  need  of  his  pardoning  grace,  surely  you 
have  chosen  the  very  worst  period  in  your  existence 
to  set  up  for  independence.  Under  such  circum- 
stances what  can  one  mean  to  think  of  being  happy 
without  asking  leave  of  God?  How  dare  you  live 
another  hour  without  prayer?  Hark,  how  it  thun- 
ders. "Cursed  be  the  man  that  trusteth  in  man 
and  maketh  flesh  his  arm,  and  whose  heart  depart- 
eth  from  the  Lord."  Does  it  not  move  you  to  hear 
that  God  has  such  feelings  towards  you  and  de- 


IN  THE    DESERT.  385 

nounces  such  a  curse  against  you  ?  Do  you  pur- 
pose to  wear  out  life  in  this  fatal  search  after  inde- 
pendent happiness?  Can  you  hope  to  maintain 
your  ground  ?  It  is  the  fixed  determination  of  the 
Almigjity  that  you  shall  not ; — that  if  you  will  not 
return  and  seek  happiness  of  him  alone,  he  will 
crush  you  beneath  his  feet.  O  that  you  knew  in 
this  your  day  the  things  that  belong  to  your  peace, 
before  they  are  hidden  from  your  eyes.  While  the 
showers  of  heaven  are  falling  around  you,  you 
might  become  rich  for  eternity.  What  pity  that 
you  should  once  again  lose  seasons  on  which  so 
much  depends.  Will  you  forever  remain  like  the 
heath  in  the  desert  ?  If  tears  would  avail  we  would 
weep  over  you  with  the  weeping  of  Jazer.  But 
tears  and  entreaties  have  hitherto  been  to  no  pur- 
pose. Shall  every  thing  be  lost  upon  you  ?  Shall 
the  influences  of  the  Holy  Ghost  be  thrown  away 
upon  you  ?  I  entreat,  I  beseech  you,  let  not  this 
precious  season  be  like  those  which  are  now  with 
the  years  beyond  the  flood.  Jt  may  be  the  last. 
For  once  have  compassion  on  your  own  souls. 

2.  I  will  apply  the  subject  to  the  awakened.  In 
the  name  of  God  I  warn  you  not  to  place  your  de- 
pendance  on  any  helper  below  the  skies.  Trust  not 
in  your  own  strength,  nor  in  the  purchasing  influ- 
ence of  your  own  duties.  Rest  not  on  ministers  or 
christians.  The  arm  of  an  angel  is  too  short  to 
save.  Only  he  who  expired  on  Calvary  can  bring 
the  mighty  blessing.  Repair  immediately  to  him. 
Spread  your  wants  before  him.  Cast  your  souls 
upon  him.    Offend  him  no  longer  by  your  obstinate 

Vol.  I.  49 


386  THE    HEATH 

delay.  Grieve  him  no  longer  by  refusing  him  your 
confidence, — a  confidence  which  he  has  so  richly 
earned.  He  has  a  heart  to  pity  the  wretched  though 
unworthy.  His  arms  are  open  to  receive  you.  If 
the  voice  of  Sinai  thundering  in  our  text  be  un- 
heeded, O  let  the  inviting  voice  of  Calvary  woo 
you  to  his  arms. 

3.  I  would  address  those  who  dream  that  they 
love  God  better  than  father  or  mother  or  life,  and 
yet  are  sluggish  and  unconcerned  in  such  a  day  as 
this;  in  other  words,  those  who  are  chained  to 
death  by  a  false  hope.  This  is  the  most  frightful 
description  of  people  we  meet  with  in  revivals.  In- 
fidels are  on  the  open  field  of  battle  ,*  mockers  are 
on  the  open  field,  and  we  know  where  to  find  them ; 
but  these  skulk  under  our  feet  and  we  stumble  over 
them :  we  lean  upon  them  and  they  let  us  fall :  we 
confide  in  them  and  they  betray  us  to  the  enemy. 
They  are  the  most  perplexing  and  discouraging  of 
all  men.  They  stand  in  the  way ;  they  cumber  the 
ground,— the  consecrated  ground  of  the  vineyard 
itself;  they  are  only  fit  for  the  flames. 

Unhappy  men,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  you  at 
present  but  to  assail  your  false  hope.  Others  I 
urge  to  come  and  embrace  a  Saviour ;  you  I  would 
tear  away  from  your  lying  hold  of  him.  But  I  shall 
not  prevail.  I  shall  probably  shake  hopes,  but  not 
yours.  It  is  easy  to  alarm  the  humble,  who  know 
the  deceitfulness  of  their  hearts ;  but  to  demolish  a 
false  hope,  deeply  embedded  in  selfishness  and  igno- 
rance, and  sworn  to  by  the  grand  deceiver,  this  the 
labor,  this  the  task  is.     I  would  rather  undertake 


IN   THE    DESERT.  387 

to  convert  ten  infidels,  than  to  demolish  one  false 
hope,  especially  if  pampered  by  the  sacramental 
elements.  I  thought  to  make  an  address  to  you, 
but  I  turn  away  discouraged.  I  seem  to  hear  him 
say,  "He  which  is  filthy  let  him  be  filthy  still." 
There  is  very  little  prospect  that  your  hope  will 
ever  leave  you  until  it  is  sunk  in  eternal  despair. 

Finally,  let  the  children  of  God, — the  dear,  lov'd 
children  of  God, — renounce  all  remaining  confi- 
dence in  creature  resources, — broken  cisterns, — and 
receive  what  with  all  my  heart  I  present  them,  the 
precious  promises  which  succeed  our  text :  "  Blessed 
is  the  man  that  trusteth  in  the  Lord,  and  whose  hope 
the  Lord  is.  For  he  shall  be  as  a  tree  planted  by 
the  waters,  and  that  spreadeth  out  her  roots  by  the 
river,  and  shall  not  see  when  heat  cometh ;  but  her 
leaf  shall  be  green,  and  shall  not  be  careful  in  the 
year  of  drought,  neither  shall  cease  from  yielding 
fruit." 


SERMON  VIII. 


TAKING  THE  KINGDOM  BY  VIOLENCE. 


Mat.  XI.  12.* 


And  from  the  days  of  John  the  Baptist  until  now,  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven suflfereth  violence  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force. 

This  refers  to  a  remarkable  revival  of  religion 
which  commenced  under  the  preaching  of  John  and 
continued  during  the  ministry  of  Jesus.  In  that 
day  of  God's  power  people  flocked  to  hear  the  Gos- 
pel and  with  mighty  efforts  pressed  into  the  king- 
dom of  God.  There  was  all  the  earnestness  com- 
mon to  modern  revivals ;  and  this  the  Saviour,  so 
far  from  rebuking  under  the  character  of  irregular 
warmth,  as  modern  formalists  do,  distinctly  approv- 
ed. He  speaks  of  it  as  though  it  was  an  attack 
upon  a  fortified  city  which  must  be  carried  by 
storm :  and  that  single  figure  shows  what  ideas  he 
had  of  the  exertions  needful  in  this  conflict.    '''Ago- 

*  Preached  in  a  revival  of  religion. 


390  TAKING   THE    KINGDOM 

m^e,"  said  he,  "  to  enter  in  at  the  straight  gate." 
He  would  have  men  come  up  to  the  work  with  all 
that  agony  which  is  necessary  in  sacking  a  strong 
city :  and  that  agony  diffused  through  a  community 
presents  all  the  earnestness  of  a  revival  of  religion, 
— of  that  revival  in  particular  to  which  the  Saviour 
referred  with  so  much  approbation. 

Make  a  law  that  men  shall  never  break  over  that 
formal  round  in  which  they  are  accustomed  to 
move  when  their  heart  is  cold  and  engrossed  by 
business  or  science,  and  you  never  will  rouse  the 
multitude  from  sleep, — you  never  will  break  the  en- 
chantment which  binds  them  to  the  world, — you 
never  will  lift  them  above  their  pride,  which  stands 
like  an  armed  giant  to  guard  the  door  of  their  pri- 
son. 

The  necessity  for  these  strong  exertions  arises 
from  the  immense  difficulties  in  the  way.  These 
difficulties  may  be  classed  under  the  following 
heads. 

1.  The  world,  as  comprehending  both  objects  of 
attention  and  objects  of  attachment.  As  the  first, 
it  diverts  the  attention  from  God  and  eternity  and 
holds  it  spell-bound  to  earth.  Business  and  amuse- 
ment and  vain  society  throw  an  enchantment  over 
the  mind  and  allure  and  enchain  it  as  by  magic.  As 
the  second,  it  plunges  men  into  the  grossest  and 
most  incurable  idolatry.  Honor,  wealth,  and  plea- 
sure become  their  trinity.  And  what  an  obstacle 
this  is  to  salvation  the  Scriptures  plainly  teach. 
"  How  can  ye  believe  which  receive  honor  one  of 
another  ?"    "  It  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  go  through 


BY    VIOLENCE.  391 

the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  in- 
to the  kingdom  of  God."  "  That  which  fell  among 
thorns  are  they  which — are  choked  with — pleasures 
of  this  life." 

2.  The  devil  and  all  his  angels.  "  We  wrestle 
not  against  flesh  and  blood,  but  against  principali- 
ties, against  powers,  against  the  rulers  of  the  dark- 
ness of  this  world,  against  spiritual  wickedness  in 
high  places."  These  subtle  spirits,  knowing  all 
our  weaknesses  and  all  the  avenues  to  our  hearts, 
do  all  they  can  to  prevent  sinners  from  being  awa- 
kened, to  prevent  the  awakened  from  submitting  to 
Christ,  and  to  embarrass  and  perplex  believers. 
They  seduce  the  awakened  back  or  delude  them 
with  false  hopes.  They  lead  them  into  errors  and 
sins,  by  which  they  grieve  the  Spirit  to  their  de- 
struction. 

3.  The  flesh  with  all  its  passions  and  lusts.  Su- 
preme selfishness  turns  the  man  into  a  confirmed 
enemy  of  God.  His  pride  is  afraid  to  go  over  to 
his  Prince  or  to  make  a  motion  towards  him,  lest 
his  companions  in  revolt  should  deride.  It  clings 
to  the  worldly  honors  that  are  to  be  renounced. 
It  cannot  bear  to  lie  down  under  the  convictions  of 
guilt  or  to  come  as  a  beggar  to  sue  for  pardon  on 
account  of  another.  Pride  and  selfishness  engen- 
der unbelief,  which  stupifies  the  soul  and  excludes 
a  sense  of  eternal  things, — a  sense  of  sin  and  ruin. 
The  lusts  and  passions  fasten  upon  the  world  and 
turn  a  thousand  objects  into  idols.  They  keep  the 
stupid  from  being  awakened,  the  awakened  from 
accepting  a  Saviour,  and  raise  in  the  believer  a  war 
which  nothing  but  death  can  terminate. 


392  TAKING   THE    KINGDOM 

The  whole  soul  gravitates  towards  the  earth,  and 
it  is  as  unnatural  for  it  to  rise  to  God  as  it  is  for 
the  body  to  ascend  to  heaven.  These  corruptions 
render  the  heart  invincibly  obdurate,  so  that  all  the 
commands  and  entreaties  of  God,  all  his  promises 
and  threatenings,  all  the  light  of  this  world  and  all 
the  sufferings  of  the  next,  cannot  subdue  it.  Though 
the  sinner,  arrested  by  the  Spirit  and  overwhelmed 
with  guilt,  stands  trembling  over  the  eternal  pit; 
though  a  bleeding  Saviour  shows  him  his  hands  and 
his  side,  and  offers  him  pardon  and  a  crown  of  glory, 
with  entreaties  that  might  move  a  rock ;  the  invin- 
cible traitor  still  urges  his  way  to  hell :  and  when 
he  arrives  there,  not  all  the  tortures  of  the  damned, 
nor  the  certainty  that  continued  sin  will  eternally  in- 
crease his  torments,  will  ever  bring  him  to  one  right 
feeling  towards  his  Maker. 

4.  The  difficulty  of  dissolving  long  connected  as- 
sociations, and  of  breaking  up  long  established 
habits,  and  of  issuing  forth  into  new  courses  of  ac- 
tion ;  the  difficulty  of  transferring  the  affections  to 
God  which  have  long  been  given  to  the  world,  of 
bringing  one  to  tread  the  valley  of  humility  who  has 
long  stalked  in  pride,  of  inuring  lips  to  prayer  which 
have  long  been  profane.  "Can  the  Ethiopean 
change  his  skin  or  the  leopard  his  spots  ?  then  may 
ye  also  do  good  that  are  accustomed  to  do  evil." 

These  immense  difficulties  are  not  to  be  overcome 
without  great  and  continued  efforts.  It  is  by  far 
the  most  difficult  work  that  ever  man  attempted. 
Hence  the  life  of  christians  is  compared  to  run- 
ning, wrestling,  fighting,  and  they  are  exhorted  to 


BY    VIOLENCE.  393 

endure  hardness  as  good  soldiers  of  Jesus  Christ. 
All  men  are  commanded  to  agonize  to  enter  in  at 
the  strait  gate,  and  are  warned  that  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  suffereth  violence  and  that  the  violent  take 
it  by  force.  All  are  required  to  watch  and  to  pray 
without  ceasing.  And  yet  even  "  the  righteous 
scarcely"  are  "saved."  It  will  be  an  everlasting 
wonder  to  see  one  of  our  race  in  heaven. 

But  I  seem  to  hear  objections  raised  against  all 
this. 

Objection  I.  You  say  the  hardness  of  sinners  is 
invincible,  and  now  you  call  upon  them  to  conquer 
it. 

Answer.  Their  hardness  arises  from  the  wicked- 
ness of  their  own  hearts,  and  ought  not  to  remain 
a  moment ;  and  although  means  cannot  subdue  it, 
they  ought  to  subdue  it  themselves.  It  is  invinci- 
ble to  all  others,  but  not  invincible  to  themselves. 

Objection  II.  This  transferring  of  the  affections 
to  God  is  the  work  of  the  Spirit,  and  is  not  to  be 
done  by  human  strength  and  resolution.  It  is  not 
like  a  worldly  task  in  which  men  are  to  apply  their 
natural  strength  in  proportion  to  the  difficulties  they 
meet,  because  that  natural  strength  is  to  accom- 
plish the  whole  work. 

Answer.  The  transferring  of  the  affections  to 
God  is  the  work  of  the  creature,  although  the  moral 
strength  or  inclination  comes  from  God,  and  the 
creature  is  solemnly  commanded  to  perform  it.  And 
we  may  set  before  men  the  whole  work  which  they 
ought  to  perform  and  urge  them  to  exertions  in  pro- 
portion to  the  difficulties  involved.     Their  depen- 

Vol.  I.  5  0 


394  TAKING    THE    KINGDOM 

dance  on  God  for  moral  strength  is  no  reason  why 
they  should  not  proportion  the  exertions  to  the  dif- 
ficulties, for  the  work  is  still  to  be  done  by  their 
own  agency  as  much  as  though  they  were  indepen- 
dent. If  men  are  not  to  make  great  efforts  in  dif- 
ficult matters  because  their  moral  strength  comes 
from  God,  they  must  not  make  any  efforts  in  easy 
matters  because  their  moral  strength  comes  from 
God.  The  truth  is,  that  while  they  must  cast  them- 
selves on  the  Spirit  for  moral  strength  to  do  any 
thing  great  or  small,  the  thing  is  done  by  acts  of 
their  own,  and  what  is  more  difficult,  by  greater 
exertion,  and  what  is  less  difficult,  by  less  exertion. 
This  is  obviously  the  case  in  every  thing  which 
depends  on  the  established  laws  of  nature.  We 
make  greater  efforts  to  lift  a  large  weight  than  a 
small  one.  And  why  should  it  not  be  so  in  every 
thing  which  is  accomplished  by  our  own  agency, 
whether  the  strength  be  obtained  in  a  natural  or 
supernatural  way,  and  whether  it  be  natural  or  mo- 
ral ?  We  have  to  take  our  affections  from  idols 
and  give  them  to  God,  and  crucify  our  lusts,  as 
much  as  we  have  to  ascend  a  hill  or  to  walk  a  plain. 
We  certainly  call  upon  christians  to  make  greater 
efforts  in  more  difficult  duties,  though  their  moral 
strength  is  supernaturally  derived. 

Objection  III.  The  work  is  difficult  only  because 
men  are  sinful.  They  ought  not  to  allow  it  to  be 
difficult.  And  instead  of  calling  upon  them  for  new 
exertions  on  account  of  the  difficulty,  you  ought  to 
require  them  instantly  to  make  it  easy. 

Answer.  We  certainly  ought  to  require  them  to 


BY    VIOLENCE.  395 

be  holy  as  God  is  holy.  They  are  bound  to  be  thus 
because  they  have  natural  ability  or  the  faculties  of 
a  rational  soul.  But  when  we  speak  of  their  ability 
as  a  reason  for  their  obligation,  it  is  because  that 
ability  is  capable  of  an  effort  in  proportion  to  the 
difficulties  to  be  overcome  :  otherwise  it  would  not 
be  an  ability.  Now  to  break  up  old  associations 
and  habits  and  to  enter  on  new  courses  of  action, 
involve  an  intrinsic  difficulty  which  was  never  felt 
before  the  fall,  and  which  therefore  is  superadded 
to  the  original  work  of  serving  God.  Can  we  ex- 
pect men  to  rise  above  this  difficulty  without  an  ef- 
fort ?     The  thing  is  impossible  ? 

Objection  IV.  It  is  not  right  to  call  upon  the  un- 
regenerate  to  bring  to  the  work  their  own  increased 
energies  and  resolution,  and  especially  to  put  forth 
exertions  in  proportion  to  the  difficulties  to  be  over- 
come, as  though  all  was  to  be  done  by  their  own 
strength,  when  the  main  point  is  to  make  them  die 
to  all  hope  from  themselves  and  fall  helpless  at  their 
Maker's  feet. 

Answer.  We  certainly  have  a  right  to  call  upon 
them  to  do  their  whole  duty,  and  therefore  to  put 
forth  exertions  in  proportion  to  the  difficulties  to  be 
overcome.  And  if  they  would  do  this  they  would 
have  no  occasion  to  cast  themselves  dead  and  help- 
less upon  God's  sovereign  will.  They  ought  in- 
stantly to  cast  themselves  on  his  Spirit  for  all  their 
moral  strength  and  to  go  forward  to  their  whole  du- 
ty. But  instead  of  this  they  attempt  to  go  in  their 
own  moral  strength,  in  a  feeling  of  independence, 
and  with  an  impenitent,  self-righteous,  unbelieving 


396  TAKING    THE    KINGDOM 

heart;  and  they  never  will  succeed.  And  when 
they  see  that  they  never  shall  succeed  nor  move 
God  to  subdue  them,  they  will,  if  they  act  accord- 
ing to  truth,  cast  themselves  upon  his  sovereign 
will.  They  are  prone  to  put  their  own  moral  power 
in  the  room  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  their  own  du- 
ties in  the  room  of  the  atonement  and  righteousness 
of  Christ,  and  their  own  prayers  in  the  room  of  his 
intercession ;  and  thus  they  sustain  themselves. 
But  the  moment  they  are  torn  from  this  self-depen- 
dance,  they  must  fall  upon  Christ,  or  upon  the  so- 
vereign will  of  God,  or  into  blank  despair.  It  is 
their  wickedness  which  keeps  them  from  going  for- 
ward to  duty ;  and  when  they  will  not  do  this,  it  is 
their  self-righteousness  and  self-dependance  which 
keep  them  from  falling  upon  Christ  or  upon  the  so- 
vereign will  of  God.  Now  the  question  is,  does 
the  urging  of  them  to  duty  prevent  them  from  fall- 
ing helpless  on  God's  sovereign  will  ?  So  far  from 
this,  it  is  the  very  best  means  to  bring  them  to  the 
point.  That  urgency  will  put  them  upon  exertion, 
and  that  exertion  will  show  them  their  utter  insuf- 
ficiency to  deliver  themselves.  They  never  will  be 
convinced  till  they  have  thoroughly  tried, — till  they 
have  exhausted  their  own  moral  strength.  The 
strongest  efforts  are  necessary  for  awakened  sin- 
ners in  two  respects ;  first,  as  the  natural  effects  of 
that  view  of  sin  and  ruin  which  is  needed  to  show 
them  the  greatness  of  their  deliverance  and  what 
they  owe  to  their  deliverer ;  and  secondly,  to  con- 
vince them,  by  the  failure  of  all  their  efforts,  that 
in  a  moral  sense  they  are  utterly  helpless  and  hope- 


BY    VIOLENCE.  397 

less  in  themselves,  and  to  bring  them  to  cast  them- 
selves dead  at  their  Maker's  feet  and  own  him  for 
their  deliverer. 

But  the  efforts  of  the  impenitent  and  unbelieving 
are  not  the  violence  referred  to  in  the  text.  This 
leads  me,  in  the  second  place,  to  consider  the  na- 
ture of  the  violence  intended. 

1.  It  must  be  accompanied  vrith  supreme  desire 
and  vrith  corresponding  earnestness  and  diligence. 
You  must  covet  salvation  more  than  the  riches, 
honors,  and  pleasures  of  the  world,  and  be  willing 
to  forego  every  thing  for  this.  You  must  come  up 
to  the  struggle  with  all  your  heart  and  soul,  or 
nothing  will  be  done.  Sluggish  exertions  will  ne- 
ver avail.  The  mighty  care  must  be  fixed  upon 
your  heart  from  morning  to  night.  It  must  swal- 
low up  every  thing  else.  If  you  will  not  come  up 
to  this,  you  may  as  well  give  up  the  struggle  and 
conclude  to  lie  down  in  everlasting  sorrows.  Sit 
down  therefore  and  count  the  cost.  If  ease  or  plea- 
sure or  the  world  is  so  valuable  that  you  cannot 
break  from  them  and  come  up  undividedly  to  this 
effort,  why  then  you  must  die.  It  must  be  one  or 
the  other.  Take  your  choice.  The  highest  promise 
to  you  in  the  Bible  is  in  these  words  :  "  Ye  shall 
seek  me  and  find  me  when  ye  shall  search  for  me 
with  all  your  heart." 

This  earnestness  must  be  attended  with  a  sincere 
desire  to  be  delivered  from  sin,  to  be  holy  as  God 
is  holy,  to  serve  and  glorify  him,  and  to  find  your 
heaven  in  communion  with  him.  This  implies  sin- 
cere love  to  God. 


398  TAKING    THE    KINGDOM 

2.  It  must  be  accompanied  with  true  repentance, 
— with  deep  self-abhorrence, — with  a  broken  heart, 
— with  an  actual  turning  from  sin. 

3.  It  must  be  marked  with  submission ;  not  set- 
ting up  your  own  will  against  the  will  of  God,  nor 
your  own  interest  against  the  interest  of  God ;  not 
dictating  to  him,  nor  counselling  him,  nor  urging  him 
as  loath ;  not  thinking  to  take  heaven  by  storm  and 
to  wrest  it  out  of  his  hands  whether  he  will  or  not, 
but  saying  continually,  "  Not  my  will  but  thine  be 
done." 

4.  You  must  offer  "  the  prayer  of  the  destitute." 
You  must  renounce  your  own  moral  strength  and 
cast  yourselves  for  moral  strength  on  the  Spirit  of 
God,  deeply  feeling  your  utter  weakness  and  de- 
pendance.  Had  Gideon  and  David  met  their  ene- 
mies in  their  own  strength,  they  would  not  have 
prevailed ;  but  when  they  went  forth  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord,  "  one"  could  "  chase  a  thousand  and 
two"  could  "put  ten  thousand  to  flight."  You 
must  sensibly  feel  that  you  deserve  eternal  death, 
and  that  the  law  is  just  in  condemning  you ;  that 
you  have  no  righteousness  of  your  own,  no  claim 
on  God,  no  power  to  make  atonement  for  a  single 
sin,  no  power  to  purchase  eternal  life,  no  power  to 
procure  any  favor  from  God,  no  hope  but  in  sove- 
reign mercy,  no  hope  but  in  Jesus  Christ ;  and  you 
must  cast  yourselves  on  him  as  the  only  ground  of 
pardon,  as  having  purchased  eternal  life  for  his 
people  by  his  obedience,  as  the  "  Heir"  who  has 
received  the  inheritance  for  the  "  joint  heirs,"  as 
the  manager  and  distributor  of  the  whole  estate,  as 
the  intercessor  on  high. 


BY    VIOLENCE.  399 

I  wish  to  apply  this  subject  solemnly  to  three  de- 
scriptions of  people. 

1.  To  those  who  are  opposed  to  any  great  ear- 
nestness or  any  uncommon  movement  in  religion. 
You  and  the  Saviour  are  fairly  at  issue  here.  He 
exhorts  to  agonize  and  to  take  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven by  violence ;  you  advise,  Let  there  be  no  vio- 
lence, no  agony,  but  leave  religion  to  occupy  a  lei- 
sure hour.  And  why  is  it  more  irrational  to  be  in 
earnest  about  religion  than  about  other  things  f  In 
commercial  and  political  concerns,  men  will  com- 
pass sea  and  land ;  and  why  may  they  not  show  a 
little  zeal  for  the  salvation  of  the  soul  ?  In  times 
of  war  the  greatest  exertions  are  deemed  necessa- 
ry; and  is  nothing  needed  but  your  sluggishness  to 
overcome  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil? 
May  everything  else  be  sought  with  earnestness 
but  the  kingdom  of  heaven?  Why  is  it  worse  to 
expose  the  constitution  to  the  evening  air  for  the 
worship  of  God,  than  on  worldly  business,  or  at 
the  theatre,  or  at  assemblies  ?  For  shame  give  up 
this  objection  or  avow  yourself  an  infidel. 

2.  To  awakened  sinners.  "If  the  righteous 
scarcely  be  saved,  where"  will  you  "  appear  ?"  If 
the  faith  of  christians  is  barely  sufficient  to  over- 
come the  world, — if  they  must  take  firm  hold  of  the 
strength  of  Qod  to  triumph  over  principalities  and 
powers, — if  all  their  humility  and  grief  for  sin  are 
hardly  enough  to  cope  with  pride  and  a  hard  heart, 
how  are  you  to  prevail  without  any  faith  or  repen- 
tance, and  wholly  relying  on  your  own  strength  ? 
If  with  half  of  their  heart  won  over,  and  with  all 


400  TAKING    THE    KINGDOM 

the  moral  strength  derived  from  heaven,  they  find 
it  hard  to  maintain  the  contest  with  the  other  half, 
what  will  you  do  against  your  whole  heart  and  with 
no  ally  in  heaven  ?  Be  it  known  to  you,  my  unhap- 
py hearers,  that  your  present  violence  will  never 
prevail.  It  has  by  some  been  compared  to  the 
ploughing  and  sowing  of  the  husbandman;  but 
there  is  no  established  constitution,  (neither  any 
covenant  nor  any  uniform  mode  of  divine  opera- 
tion,) according  to  which  your  efforts  tend  to  sal- 
vation ;  and  they  will  forever  be  in  vain  without  a 
special  interposition  in  your  favor.  You  have  ne- 
ver broken  up  "your  fallow  ground,"  but  have 
sown  "  among  thorns"  or  on  a  rock ;  and  you  have 
sown  "thistles — instead  of  wheat  and  cockle  in- 
stead of  barley."  From  Genesis  to  Revelation 
there  is  not  a  promise  to  anything  you  have  ever 
done.  If  God  ever  gives  you  a  new  heart,  it  will 
not  be  for  one  exertion  you  ever  made,  or  in  an- 
swer to  a  single  prayer  you  ever  offered.  Not  be- 
cause you  are  not  able,  but  because  you  are  so  ob- 
stinately wicked.  You  are  altogether  in  his  hands. 
Your  last  hope  hangs  on  his  sovereign  will.  You 
lie  wholly  at  the  mercy  of  him  whom  you  have 
made  your  enemy  by  wicked  works.  If  he  frown 
you  die.  Fall  down  at  his  feet  till  he  shall  raise 
and  heal  and  bid  you  live. 

3.  If  obstacles  lie  in  the  way  to  heaven  which 
the  awakened  will  never  surmount,  and  which  the 
righteous,  with  all  their  watchings  and  prayers,  can 
scarcely  transcend, —  there  is  a  question  which 
comes  down  with  the  weight  of  a  thousand  worlds, 


BY    VIOLENCE.  401 

— where  will  the  stupid,  prayerless  sinners  appear  ? 
Here  are  men  shut  up  in  a  burning  house :  some 
break  through  the  flames  and  with  the  greatest  dif- 
ficulty escape :  what  chance  remains  for  those  who 
are  asleep  in  the  upper  stories  ?  A  number  are 
confined  to  a  burning  city,  environed  with  besieging 
armies :  all  the  passages  from  the  town  are  broken 
by  dangerous  moats  and  trenches :  a  few  valiant 
hearts  burst  through  the  flames,  break  through  the 
hostile  ranks,  leap  the  ditches  and  banks,  and  es- 
cape with  their  lives :  others  are  asleep  amidst  the 
flames.  What  but  inevitable  destruction  awaits 
these,  unless  they  instantly  awake,  and  with  the 
strength  of  a  giant  and  the  activity  of  an  angel, 
break  their  way  through  a  thousand  deaths  ? — 
Wretched  men,  you  see  the  difficulties  so  great  that 
many  will  seek  to  enter  in  and  will  not  be  able  : 
when,  where,  and  by  whom  then  are  you  to  be  deli- 
vered ?  Do  you  think  to  surmount  all  these  obsta- 
cles while  you  sleep  ?  Go  to  the  christian's  closet 
and  see  his  daily  wrestlings  :  go  with  him  into  the 
world  and  observe  his  habitual  watchfulness,  kept  up 
for  thirty  or  forty  years ;  and  all  to  conquer  those 
very  difficulties  which  lie  in  the  way  of  your  salva- 
tion ;  while  you  have  never  made  a  motion.  So 
many  years  have  you  lived  in  God's  world,  and  now 
death  is  hastening  on,  and  you  have  never  yet  begun 
your  work,  and  still  remain  unconcerned  as  though 
you  had  nothing  to  do.  Were  you  not  blind  you 
would  see  your  heart  full  of  idolatry  and  enmity 
against  God ;  you  would  see  earth  and  hell  leagued 
against  your  salvation.  And  how  are  all  these  dif- 
VoL.  1.  5  1 


402  TAKING    THE    KINGDOM 

ficulties  to  be  overcome  ?  No  man  ever  yet  con- 
quered them  without  strong  and  persevering  exer- 
tions :  when,  where,  and  by  whom  then  are  you  to 
conquer  ?  You  have  never  yet  roused  to  an  anxi- 
ous effort ;  how  and  when  is  victory  to  be  achiev- 
ed ? 

But  the  great  deceiver  tells  you,  it  is  easy  to  be- 
come religious  at  any  time,  and  it  will  be  enough  to 
have  a  few  hours'  warning  of  death.  But  ask  those 
who  have  tried,  and  they  will  all  give  you  a  differ- 
ent account.  Ask  your  companions.  As  soon  as 
one  of  their  number  made  the  attempt,  unexpected 
difficulties  started  up  before  him.  He  was  alarmed 
at  their  magnitude  and  number,  and  was  driven  to 
despair  of  success  from  himself,  and  confessed  that 
if  a  long  abused  God  did  not  pluck  him  from  de- 
struction, he  must  perish.  And  here  you  are  dream- 
ing of  an  easy  work,  sure  to  be  accomplished  before 
you  die ;  but  how  or  when  you  take  little  thought. 
What  distraction  to  defer  this  work  till  a  dying  hour, 
in  the  confidence  of  being  aided  by  him  whom,  un- 
der that  hope,  you  are  now  abusing.  And  should 
he  desert  you  then,  think  you  that  your  poor,  weak, 
wicked,  dying  nature  would  perform  the  mighty 
task  alone  ? 

But  it  is  an  easy  thing  to  prepare  for  death. 
Well  then  try  and  see.  If  it  is  so  easy  it  will  cost 
you  but  little  trouble ;  and  surely  heaven  is  worth 
a  little  trouble.  And  if  it  is  so  small  a  matter  to 
make  everything  sure  for  eternity,  what  madness  to 
run  the  risk  of  losing  all  by  a  sudden  death  or  by 
the  loss  of  reason.     What  folly  to  put  it  to  a  mo- 


BV    VIOLENCE.  403 

ment's  hazard.     On  the  contrary,  if  it  is  so  difficult, 
it  ought  to  be  entered  upon  without  delay. 

Others  say,  I  cannot  change  my  own  heart,  and 
God  does  not  see  fit  to  change  it ;  what  can  I  do 
but  wait  his  time  ?  This  you  say  to  justify  your- 
selves and  to  cast  the  blame  on  God.  It  is  the  plea 
of  the  slothful  servant,  "  I  knew  thee  that  thou  art 
a  hard  man,  reaping  where  thou  hast  not  sown  and 
gathering  where  thou  hast  not  strowed."  But  out 
of  your  own  mouth  shall  you  be  judged.  If  God 
requires  more  than  you  can  do,  is  that  a  reason 
why  you  should  do  nothing  ?  why  you  should  sin 
against  him  with  all  your  might  ?  Is  this  the  way 
to  conciliate  a  hard  master  who  has  you  altogether 
in  his  power  ?  But  you  do  not  believe  this  plea 
yourselves.  If  you  did  you  would  not  be  so  easy. 
Were  you  locked  up  in  a  burning  house,  and  the 
key  in  the  hands  of  a  cruel  master,  we  should  not 
see  you  laughing  and  singing  about  the  apartments, 
but  agonized  with  terror.  You  need  help  from 
God, — but  is  this  a  reason  why  you  should  neglect 
to  ask  help  of  him?  Can  you  hope  that  he  will 
save  you  while  you  are  buried  in  the  world  and  re- 
fuse to  pray  ?  And  when  is  your  case  to  be  better? 
Every  day  you  are  growing  more  hardened  ;  every 
hour  the  chances  against  you  are  increasing ;  and 
here  you  are  waiting  for  future  conviction,  as  thou- 
sands did  who  are  now  in  hell. 

What  is  still  more  affecting  in  the  case  of  all  the 
careless,  you  are  losing  this  inestimable  season  of 
grace.     The  Holy  Ghost,  in  infinite  kindness,  has 


404  TAKING    THE    KINGDOM 

come  down  from  heaven  to  invite  you,  and  yet  you 
trample  the  mercy  under  foot.  You  see  others 
around  you  pressing  into  the  kingdom  of  God,  and 
you  will  not  move  a  finger,  but  wait,  like  a  stock, 
for  God  to  move  upon  you.  You  see  them  taken 
from  you  and  you  are  left  as  men  abandoned  of 
God.  And  yet  you  will  not  move.  You  are  about 
to  let  a  Saviour  go,  though  in  all  probability  it  is 
the  last  time  that  he  will  pass  this  way  in  season  to 
open  your  eyes.  There  is  very  little  chance  for 
you  in  stupid  times ;  and  after  you  have  rejected 
the  Holy  Ghost  through  this  revival,  there  is  solemn 
reason  to  fear  that  you  may  not  live  to  see  another, 
or  if  you  should,  that  you  will  be  left  like  the  heath 
in  the  desert.  As  this  season  leaves  you  so  it  is 
likely  you  will  remain  to  eternity.  O  if  you  have 
any  reason  left,  awake  without  delay  and  take  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  by  violence.  Have  you  resolved 
to  perish  let  God  and  his  people  do  what  they  will  ? 
If  you  throw  this  season  away,  I  ask  again,  when 
do  you  expect  to  prepare  for  death  ?  When  ? 
Must  we  take  an  eternal  leave  of  you  and  see  you 
forever  lifting  up  your  eyes  in  torments  ?  This  we 
have  distressing  reason  to  fear.  You  have  resisted 
the  tears  of  parents  and  the  solemn  expostulations 
of  ministers.  You  have  resisted  all  that  heaven 
could  do  in  a  way  of  means.  What  hope  then  re- 
mains? O  go  not  from  this  house  till  you  have 
awoke  to  sleep  no  more,  like  those  who  are  awoke 
by  the  last  trump. 

I  have  done  my  errand.    And  now,  when  the 


BY    VIOLENCE.  405 

last  trump  shall  sound,  if  we  shall  see  you  emerg- 
ing from  the  grave  stamped  with  the  horrid  emblems 
of  the  damned,  and  convulsed  with  horror  at  the 
prodigies  of  the  opening  judgment,  blame  not  me, 
— blame  not  God.  I  call  heaven  and  earth  to  wit- 
nes  that  your  blood  will  be  upon  your  own  head. 


SERMON  IX. 


THE  BAND  WHICH  TOOK  CHRIST. 


John  xviii. 


As  soon  then  as  he  had  said  unto  them,  I  am  he,  they  went  backward 
and  fell  to  the  ground. 

There  is  a  use  in  selecting  some  specimens  of 
the  human  heart  and  holding  them  up  as  a  mirror 
in  which  all  may  see  themselves.  "  As  in  water 
face  answereth  to  face,  so  the  heart  of  man  to 
man."  For  though  there  are  small  constitutional 
diversities,  and  different  degrees  of  restraint,  and 
different  degrees  of  ignorance  and  hardness,  of  pre- 
judice and  infatuation,  the  essential  character  of 
all  is  the  same.  All  lions  are  lions  and  not  lambs, 
though  there  are  small  diversities  among  them. 
Men  are  alike  by  nature  in  all  the  great  characte- 
ristics. They  do  not  love  God ;  therefore  they 
love  themselves  supremely  ;  therefore  they  hate  the 

•  Preached  in  a  revival  of  religion. 


408  THE    BAND   WHICH 

God  of  the  law.  As  sure  as  they  are  governed  by 
motives,  they  must  hate  the  God  who  stands  over 
them  and  says,  If  you  do  not  love  me  better  than 
yourselves,  I  will  dash  the  interests  you  so  dearly 
love  to  all  eternity.  They  are  full  of  pride ;  and 
selfishness  and  pride,  separately  and  jointly,  pro- 
duce unbelief.  They  are  enslaved  by  sensible  ob- 
jects ',  and  when  hardened  by  habits  of  sin  and  a  re- 
sistance of  the  calls  of  God,  they  are  proof  against 
every  thing.  I  have  selected  the  text,  and  the  story 
of  which  it  is  a  part,  in  order  to  exhibit  a  fair  sam- 
ple of  the  human  heart, — of  your  heart  under  the 
same  circumstances. 

Judas,  having  made  up  his  mind  to  betray  his 
Master,  went  to  "  the  chief  priests  and  captains  " 
and  agreed  to  do  it  for  a  bribe.  About  these  cap- 
tains there  are  different  opinions.  Some  suppose 
they  were  officers  of  the  Roman  band  which  guard- 
ed the  temple  at  the  time  of  the  passover,  which 
officers  were  selected  from  among  the  Jews ;  others 
think  they  were  officers  for  constructing  and  repair- 
ing the  buildings  of  the  temple ;  others  think  they 
were  priests  whose  particular  office  it  was  to  ap- 
prehend those  who  transgressed  in  sacred  things. 
From  that  time  the  traitor  "  sought  opportunity  to 
betray  him  unto  them  in  the  absence  of  the  multi- 
tude.'''' He  was  at  the  passover  after  this,  and  went 
out  between  the  passover  and  the  supper,  to  make 
ready  for  the  infamous  expedition.  After  supper, 
and  after  Christ  had  uttered  those  memorable  words 
in  the  14th,  15th,  16th  and  17th  of  John,  he  went 
out  to  the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  whither  he  had 


TOOK   CHRIST.  409 

often  resorted  with  his  disciples.  In  the  mean  time 
Judas  received  "  from  the  chief  priests  and  phari- 
sees  "  "  a  band  of  men  and  officers."  In  the  tower 
of  Antonia,  at  the  northwest  angle  of  the  temple,  a 
Roman  garrison  was  kept,  which,  from  its  emi- 
nence, commanded  the  temple,  and  through  that, 
the  city.  A  detachment  from  that  garrison,  under 
Jewish  officers,  guarded  the  temple  at  the  time  of 
the  passover.  This  detachment,  or  the  greater  part 
of  it,  constituting  "  a  great  multitude,"  some  say 
500,  others  1,000,  were  committed  to  Judas,  and 
accompanied  by  some  of  "the  chief  priests  and 
captains  of  the  temple  and  the  elders."  The  band 
was  made  so  strong  and  armed  "  with  swords  and 
staves,"  from  an  evident  apprehension  that  "the 
multitude"  might  attempt  a  rescue.  And  though 
it  was  the  time  of  the  full  moon,  they  went  out 
"with  lanterns  and  torches,"  determined,  if  he 
should  hide  himself,  to  search  for  him  in  every 
corner.  How  active  and  vigilant  are  the  persecu- 
tors, while  the  disciples  are  asleep.  "  Now  he  that 
betrayed  him  gave  them  a  sign,  saying.  Whomso- 
ever I  shall  kiss,  that  same  is  he,  hold  him  fast. 
And  forthwith  he  came  to  Jesus  and  said.  Hail, 
Master,  and  kissed  him."  Then  "Jesus — went 
forth  and  said  unto  them,  Whom  seek  ye  ?  They 
answered  him,  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Jesus  saith  unto 
them,  I  am  he. — As  soon  then  as  he  had  said  unto 
them,  I  am  he,  they  went  backward  and  fell  to  the 
ground."  They  are  seized  with  a  strange  superna- 
tural terror :  they  are  thunderstruck  and  sink  to  the 
earth.     Soldiers  and  officers,  chief  priests  and  eU 

Vol.  I.  62 


41'0  THE    BAND    WHICH 

ders,  captains  of  the  temple  and  the  traitor  Judas, 
all  are  prostrate  together, — according  to  that  pro- 
phetic prayer  of  David,  "  Let  them  be  turned  back 
and  brought  to  confusion  that  devise  my  hurt." 
This  was  a  decisive  proof  of  his  divine  power  and  that 
they  were  altogether  in  his  hands.  When  he  struck 
them  down  he  could  have  struck  them  dead ;  when 
he  spoke  them  to  the  ground  he  could  have  spoken 
them  to  hell.  But  he  would  manifest  his  patience 
towards  his  enemies  by  giving  them  a  call  and  a 
space  to  repent ;  and  he  would  show  to  all  men  that 
his  life  was  not  forced  from  him,  but  that  he  laid  it 
down  of  himself. 

When  the  prostrate  army  had  recovered  them- 
selves, Jesus  asked  "  them  again,  Whom  seek  ye  ? 
And  they  said,  Jesus  of  Nazareth."  Notwithstand- 
ing that  overwhelming  impression  and  all  the  proof 
it  brought  of  his  divine  power,  they  immediately 
returned  to  their  purpose,  and  with  a  hardiness  that 
never  quavered  again,  bound  him  and  led  him  away 
to  judgment  and  to  execution.  Had  the  impression 
remained  they  could  not  have  done  this ;  but  when 
it  was  gone,  not  all  the  discoveries  they  had  had  of 
his  power  and  majesty,  could  hold  them  back  from 
the  ensuing  scene  of  mockery  and  torture. 

This  solemn  piece  of  history  gives  rise  to  seve- 
ral reflections. 

1.  The  power  of  Christ  and  the  discoveries  of 
him  will  bring  down  the  stoutest  sinner.  It  is  no 
evidence  that  men  are  weak  that  they  are  thus  af- 
fected. Those  who  fell  in  Gethsemane  were  among 
the  stoutest  and  proudest  minds  in  the  Jewish  na- 


TOOK    CHRIST.  411 

tion.  Among  them  were  some  of  "  the  chief  priests 
and  captains  of  the  temple  and  the  elders,"  who 
probably  knew  that  Jesus  was  the  Messiah,  and  yet 
were  intrepid  enough  to  compass  his  death  against 
all  the  miracles  which  surrounded  it.  Among  them 
was  the  traitor  Judas,  whom  John  particularly  no- 
tices as  standing  with  them  at  that  moment.  It  is 
no  sign  that  men  are  credulous  and  superstitious, 
and  predisposed  to  their  impressions  by  a  distem- 
pered imagination,  that  they  sink  under  the  power 
and  discoveries  of  Christ.  It  cannot  be  pretended 
that  those  who  were  prostrated  in  the  garden  were 
credulous,  or  in  a  temper  to  create  a  vision  in  proof 
of  the  Messiahship  of  him  whom  they  had  come  to 
apprehend.  Sometimes  the  greatest  mockers  and 
persecutors  are  suddenly  brought  down  by  these 
discoveries.  Though  it  is  generally  true  of  mock- 
ers that  their  "bands"  are  "made  strong,"  yet  some 
of  them  are  demolished  to  show  the  greatness  of 
the  power.  Who  were  greater  mockers  and  per- 
secutors than  those  who  "  went  backward  and  fell 
to  the  ground?"  Who,  than  the  dying  thief? — 
Who,  than  the  centurion  and  soldiers  who  enacted 
those  dreadful  scenes  in  the  pretorium  and  at  the 
cross,  and  were  subdued  before  they  left  the  spot  ? 
Who,  than  the  spectators  of  the  crucifixion,  who 
had  joined  in  the  horrid  mockery,  but  returned 
smiting  their  breasts,  and  were,  many  of  them,  pro- 
bably converted  at  Pentecost  ?  Who,  than  Saul  of 
Tarsus  ? 

You  see  them  falling  around   you  now.     And 
why  should  they  not  tremble  and  be  astonished? 


.412  THE    BAND   WHICH 

They  are  sinners  condemned  to  eternal  death;  and 
they  never  can  apply  to  the  Saviour  till  they  see 
their  utter  and  helpless  ruin.  And  when  they  see 
this,  and  before  they  have  any  interest  or  confi- 
dence in  Christ,  must  they  not  tremble  ?  must  they 
not  be  in  anguish  ?  And  what  is  it  that  distresses 
them  ?  Nothing  but  this  very  conviction  of  their 
perishing  need  of  a  Saviour ;  nothing  but  a  disco- 
very of  Bible  truths.  The  Bible  told  us  that  the 
Spirit  was  sent  out  to  convince  the  world  of  sin, 
and  that  in  the  latter  day  it  would  be  poured  upon 
all  flesh.  And  this  very  prediction  was  quoted  by 
Peter  at  Pentecost,  to  wipe  off  the  reproach  of  dis- 
order which  even  then  had  been  cast  upon  the  work 
of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

This  prostration  in  the  garden  was  a  srong  at- 
testation of  the  power  of  Christ  and  of  the  justice 
of  his  claims.  And  that  divine  power  which  at- 
tends the  Gospel,  which  the  Bible  predicted,  and 
which  suddenly  brings  down  the  stoutest  sinners 
under  an  impression  of  Bible  truths,  and  converts 
them  from  profligate  to  holy  lives,  and  to  which  may 
manifestly  be  traced  all  the  real  goodness  in  our 
world,  or  that  ever  was  in  our  world  since  the  fall, 
is  one  of  the  strongest  proofs  of  the  christian  reli- 
gion. 

2.  There  are  hearts  so  obstinate  that  nothing 
will  reclaim  them.  They  may  be  brought  down 
for  a  season  with  alarm  and  consternation,  but  can- 
not be  subdued.  This  seemed  to  be  the  case  with 
that  audacious  band.  They  could  be  brought  to  the 
earth  under  an  awful  impression  of  the  power  and 


TOOK    CHRIST.  41 

majesty  of  Christ ;  but  all  that  terror,  and  all  that 
proof  of  his  divine  authority,    could  not  subdue 
them  or  protect  him  against  their  violence.     And 
there  are  those  who  have  been  brought  up  by  pious 
parents,  and  were  early  and  frequently  called  by 
the  secret  whispers  of  the  Spirit,  and  have  enjoyed 
all  the  means  of  grace  from  a  child ;  who  arc  suf- 
fered to  live  in  revivals  of  religion,  and  see  their 
friends  and  companions  pressing  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven,  and  are  themselves  entreated  until  they 
will  bear  it  no  longer ;  and  yet  nothing  can  avail. 
They  do  not  feel,  and  they  do  not  want  to  feel. 
They  will  not  pray,  they  will  not  attend  the  special 
religious  meetings,  and  are  angry  at  God  and  his 
people.     Some  of  them  openly  oppose  religion  and 
mock  at  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit.     Nothing 
that  God  or  man  can  do  in  a  way  of  means  will 
bring  them  to  their  knees  or  to  an  hour  of  serious 
reflection.     They   are   proof   against    everything. 
And  though  they  sometimes  look  forward  to  future 
conversion,  they  are  growing  harder  and  harder 
every  hour,  and  in  all  probability  will  die  as  they 
have  lived,  and  take  their  portion  with  Judas  and 
his  invincible  band. 

Indeed  it  is  true  of  all,  that,  left  to  themselves, 
they  are  capable  of  resisting  every  thing.  In  su- 
preme selfishness  there  is  a  hardihood  which  re- 
quires nothing  but  the  absence  of  restraint,  and  to 
have  the  eye  of  conscience  blinded  by  ignorance, 
and  the  passions  roused  to  an  impetuous  sweep,  to 
present  a  wall  of  brass  to  every  arrow  of  the  Al- 
mighty, and  to  prevent  men  from  being  "  persuaded 
though  one  rose  from  the  dead." 


414  THE    BAND    WHICH 

This  will  appear  more  evident  and  less  wonder- 
ful when  it  is  considered  that  it  is  not  the  province 
of  light  essentially  to  improve  a  heart  wholly  op- 
posed to  the  objects  revealed.  No  motive  is  effec- 
tual unless  it  is  addressed  to  a  corresponding  taste. 
An  invitation  to  a  feast  is  no  motive  to  a  man  with- 
out an  appetite, — to  a  man  disgusted  with  every 
viand  prepared.  All  the  light  of  eternity  will  not 
convert  a  devil.  A  view  of  God  and  his  perfec- 
tions and  mercies  and  claims,  is  transforming  to  a 
partially  holy  heart ;  for  there  is  something  in  that 
heart  which  can  fall  in  with  the  motives :  but  no 
light  cast  upon  God's  character  can  bring  the  na- 
tural heart  to  love  it.  If  it  could,  the  natural  heart 
is  not  totally  depraved.  If  the  more  full  explana- 
tions of  the  divine  character  present  an  object  which 
the  natural  heart  loves,  what  it  hated  before  was 
not  the  true  God,  and  its  enmity  was  only  a  com- 
mendable aversion  to  an  idol.  But  if  it  hates  the  true 
God,  it  will  hate  him  the  more  the  more  he  is  seen, 
as  surely  as  it  is  governed  by  motives.  Light,  so 
far  from  extinguishing  the  flame  of  rebellion,  is  only 
oil  cast  upon  the  fire.  So  it  is  in  hell.  The  more 
God  is  seen  the  more  raging  is  the  enmity,  because 
it  is  the  real  character  of  God  they  hate.  So  it  is 
with  convicted  sinners.  Their  enmity  was  never 
so  much  inflamed  before  they  came  to  have  clear 
ideas  of  the  God  of  the  law.  I  have  seen  them 
ready  to  gnash  with  their  teeth  but  a  few  hours  or 
minutes  before  they  began  the  immortal  song. 

It  affords  no  relief  to  say  that  the  instrumentality 
pleaded  for  is  that  of  mere  antecedent,  and  that  it  is 


TOOK   CHRIST.  416 

the  Spirit  which  really  sanctifies.  This  is  true,  but 
it  does  not  justify  the  calling  of  the  light  an  instru- 
ment. The  rod  of  Moses  was  an  antecedent  to  the 
opening  of  the  sea  and  of  the  rock,  but  it  was  not 
an  instrument,  in  the  sense  in  which  fire  is  an  in- 
strument in  dressing  our  food ;  because  it  had  no 
influence  according  to  the  stated  laws  of  nature. 
Where  light  is  used  in  sanctifying  a  heart  that  had 
a  previous  temper  to  fall  in  with  the  motives,  it  may 
be  truly  called  an  instrument,  as  much  as  any  suc- 
cessful motive  addressed  to  a  corresponding  taste. 
But  though  light  is  of  vital  importance  to  the 
awakened  sinner,  to  show  him  his  duty,  to  show 
him  the  extent  of  his  ruin,  to  show  him,  after  his 
conversion,  to  whom  he  is  indebted  for  his  deliver- 
ance, and  how  much  he  owes  his  deliverer,  yet  it  is 
not  the  instrument  of  changing  the  temper  of  his 
heart.  That  is  done  by  the  immediate  power  of 
God.  By  no  stated  connexion  between  second 
causes  will  the  discovery  of  a  hated  object,  (hated 
in  its  whole  character,)  produce  love. 

I  have  thus  slid  from  my  subject  into  the  doctrine, 
that  convicted  sinners,  so  far  from  being  improved 
by  light,  are  roused  by  it  to  greater  opposition. 
They  sin  also  against  greater  knowledge  and  greater 
love,  and  every  moment  is  adding  new  sins  to  the 
former  catalogue.  On  all  these  accounts  their  sins 
are  greatly  increased.  And  O  how  has  their  guilt 
increased.  There  is  not  an  awakened  sinner  in 
this  house  but  hates  God  with  all  his  heart.  Not- 
withstanding all  the  wonders  of  Calvary, — notwith- 
standing this  most  gracious  visit  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 


416  THE    BAND   WHICH 

■ — he  hates  the  Father,  he  rejects  the  Son,  and  he 
resists  the  Spirit.  And  he  must  be  convinced  of 
this  unbounded  wickedness,  before  he  will  see  his 
total  ruin  and  his  perishing  need  of  a  Saviour. 

We  see  then  the  invincible  hardness  of  the  car- 
nal heart.  No  motives,  no  means  can  subdue  it. 
All  motives  are  wrapped  up  in  light ;  and  all  means, 
(except  prayer,  and  this  the  carnal  heart  does  not 
use,)  are  comprehended  in  light  and  in  the  ways  of 
carrying  light  to  the  mind.  No  motives,  no  means 
can  essentially  improve  it.  They  may  assist  in  re- 
gulating the  passions  under  the  present  state  of  so- 
ciety, and  in  making  some  improvement  in  the  ha- 
bitual temper  towards  men ;  but  they  cannot  bring 
the  natural  heart  any  nearer  to  holiness  or  to  God. 
It  stands  immovable  against'all  means  and  motives 
in  earth  and  hell,  and  nothing  but  the  almighty 
power  of  God  can  bring  it  down. 

3.  The  strongest  impressions  may  soon  pass  off 
and  leave  nothing  but  increased  hardness  and  stu- 
pidity behind.  Who  would  have  thought,  when 
that  murderous  band  fell  to  the  ground  under  an 
awful  impression  of  the  presence  of  Christ,  that 
they  would  so  soon  rise  up  harder  than  before  and 
renew  their  horrid  purpose  of  dragging  him  to  judg- 
ment and  to  death  ?  The  resistance  of  that  hea- 
venly call  prepared  them  for  anything.  When  they 
came  to  Gethsemane  they  were  not  too  hard  to  sink 
to  the  earth  before  that  awful  presence ;  but  they 
never  quailed  the  second  time.  They  were  now 
screwed  up  to  deeds  of  daring  at  which  a  devil 
might  recoil.    And  the  awakened  here,  who  are 


TOOK    CHRIST.  417 

now  overwhelmed  with  the  presence  of  the  great 
and  dreadful  God ;  who  feel  crushed  under  moun- 
tains of  guilt,  and  see  hell  naked  before  them  and 
destruction  without  a  covering ;  who  consider  them- 
selves as  placed  on  their  last  trial,  and  dread  the 
idea  of  returning  back  as  they  dread  a  plunge  into 
the  burning  lake ;  even  some  of  these,  in  a  few  days, 
may  be  stupid  and  mirthtul  and  entertained  as  much 
as  ever  with  the  vanities  of  the  world,  and  with- 
drawn from  meetings,  and  neglecting  prayer,  and 
profaning  sabbaths,  and  opposing  the  Bible,  and 
scoffing  at  revivals,  and  sunk  in  vice,  and  sinking 
into  the  grave  and  hell  as  sottish  and  confirmed  in- 
fidels. I  expect  nothing  else  but  that  some  of  them 
will  obstinately  hold  out  against  all  the  calls  of  God 
until  the  Spirit  leaves  them  forever.  Some  of  them 
in  all  probability  are  on  their  last  trial,  and  will  sin 
away  this  awful  crisis  and  be  sealed  over  to  eternal 
reprobation.  I  tremble  for  those  who  have  been 
resisting  the  Spirit  for  several  weeks.  I  tremble 
for  those  who  are  past  the  middle  of  life.  Who 
can  doubt  that  a  return  of  these  would  be  a  return 
to  hopeless  destruction  ?  How  can  we  help  watch- 
ing them  as  we  would  a  friend  in  the  turning  point 
of  a  dangerous  fever,  and  trembling  at  every  symp- 
tom of  a  relapse?  It  is  insupportable  to  think  of 
your  going  back.  To  what  would  you  return? 
Do  you  now  see  the  dreadful  condition  you  have 
been  in  all  your  days  ?  and  would  you  go  back  to 
a  condition  far  more  guilty  and  hopeless  ?  Do  you 
now  see  the  wrath  which  for  many  years  has  been 
struggling  in  the  divine  mind  to  burst  upon  you  ? 
Vol.  I.  53 


418  THE    BAND    WHICH 

and  would  you  lie  down  under  wrath  heated  seven- 
fold /  Do  you  now  tremble  at  the  hidden  dangers 
among  which  you  have  been  sleeping  secure  ?  and 
would  you  go  back  to  sleep  among  dangers  ten-fold 
increased  ?  What  can  any  man  propose  to  himself 
by  going  back  but  a  miserable  eternity,  made  still 
more  miserable  by  these  slighted  calls  ?  Your  cir- 
cumstances are  amazingly  critical.  If  you  feel  less 
than  you  did,  I  wonder  you  are  not  distracted  with 
alarm.  It  looks  like  the  first  step  towards  a  fatal 
return :  and  like  the  fruitless  fig  tree  you  may  soon 
be  cut  down,  and  never  live  to  see  another  revival : 
and  should  you  see  another,  what  reason  have  you 
to  expect  any  yielding  of  a  heart  that  cannot  be 
brought  down  by  all  that  is  now  passing  before 
you  and  pressing  upon  your  conscience  ?  Or  what 
can  you  hope  for  in  a  time  of  general  stupidity  ?  It 
is  madness  to  look  forward  to  any  future  conver- 
sion. You  stand  in  the  most  awfully  critical  cir- 
cumstances ;  and  yet  your  stubborn  heart  still  holds 
out  against  God.  One  week  passes  after  another, 
and  you  remain  as  you  were, — the  enemies  of  God, 
— hating  those  glories  which  angels  love,  trampling 
under  foot  the  blood  of  Calvary,  resisting  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  doing  all  you  can  to  provoke  heaven  to 
abandon  you  forever.  You  must  not  remain  so 
another  hour.  With  all  this  light  upon  you,  it  is 
infinitely  hazardous  to  resist  a  moment.  Your  sin 
may  become  unpardonable.  No  tongue  can  de- 
scribe your  danger  :  and  here  you  are  waiting  still, 
and  thinking  it  enough  if  you  do  not  go  back.  It 
will  not  do.     You  must  submit  before  you  leave 


TOOK    CHRIST.  419 

your  seats.  A  thousand  dangers  hang  on  a  mo- 
ment's delay.  We  are  looking  every  instant  for 
the  heavenly  dove  to  take  wrings  and  fly  away.  And 
when  it  is  gone,  I  know  that  all  the  truths  which 
have  overwhelmed  your  conscience  will  not  leave 
one  impression  on  that  rock  in  your  breast. 

And  some  of  you  will  draw  back  in  spite  of  every 
thing  that  can  be  said.  The  moment  the  heavenly 
influence  is  withdrawn,  that  Godhating  heart  will 
spring  back  like  a  stubborn  bow  loosed  from  its 
string.  And  then  all  these  impressions  will  vanish 
like  a  footstep  upon  the  face  of  the  waters,  and  you 
may  be  prepared  for  any  thing.  That  profligate 
band,  after  they  had  risen  from  their  overwhelming 
impression,  appear  to  have  been  foremost  in  the 
wickedest  and  most  horrible  transaction  that  ever 
appalled  the  universe.  The  soldiers  seem  to  have 
been  among  those  who  mocked  in  the  pretorium 
and  aided  in  the  crucifixion :  and  it  cannot  be 
doubted  that  "  the  chief  priests  and  captains  of  the 
temple  and  the  elders"  who  belonged  to  the  band, 
were  among  the  boisterous  clamorers  for  the  con- 
demnation and  the  blasphemous  scoffers  at  the  cross, 
and  probably  among  those  who  knew  the  high  cha- 
racter of  the  victim.  For  all  this  they  had  become 
prepared  by  resisting  that  solemn  call.  O  take 
care  how  you  raise  yourselves  up  to  these  infuriated 
acts  of  treason  by  rejecting  the  loud  and  special 
calls  of  God. 

4.  If  there  was  so  much  power  and  majesty  in 
the  voice  of  Christ  in  one  of  his  lowest  acts  of  hu- 
miliation, what  majesty  and  power  will  attend  his 


420  THE    BAND    WHICH 

voice  when  he  shall  come  in  the  glory  of  his  Fa- 
ther with  the  holy  angels  !  If  when  resigning  him- 
self up  to  be  dragged  before  a  human  tribunal,  he 
spread  such  awe  around  him,  what  awe  will  he 
throw  upon  three  worlds  when  he  shall  come  in  the 
clouds  of  heaven  to  be  himself  the  Judge.  If  when 
his  enemies  rushed  upon  him  to  take  him,  the  gran- 
deur of  his  nature  was  so  nmch  felt,  how  will  it  be 
felt  when  from  his  "  face  the  earth  and  the  heaven" 
shall  flee  "away  and  there"  shall  be  "found  no 
place  for  them."  If  a  word  from  his  lips  in  the 
dark  hour  of  night,  when  his  glory  was  vailed,  was 
so  overwhelming  to  his  enemies,  what  will  it  be 
when  he  shall  appear  on  his  great  white  throne,  en- 
circled with  the  brightness  of  a  thousand  suns,  and 
arrayed  in  all  the  terrors  of  the  Godhead.  If  he 
could  quell  his  enemies  at  his  feet  in  Gethsemane 
how  will  he  crush  them  beneath  his  eye  when  he 
shall  sit  on  his  seat  of  judgment,  with  all  the  au- 
thority of  God  on  his  lips  and  all  the  power  of  an 
avenging  God  in  his  hand ;  when  "  the  great  day 
of  his  wrath  is  come  and"  none  "  shall  be  able  to 
stand."  If  only  to  say,  "  I  am  he,"  prostrated  the 
most  malignant  and  daring  enemies  that  he  ever 
had  on  earth,  what  will  be  the  efiect  of  that  tre- 
mendous sentence,  "  Depart,  ye  cursed,  into  ever- 
lasting fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels." 
Where  is  Judas  now  ?  Where  are  Caiaphas  and 
Annas  ?  Where  are  Herod  and  Pilate  ?  And 
where  are  those  among  my  hearers  who  preferred 
the  world  to  Christ?  who  rose  up  to  oppose  the 
Gospel  ?  who  mocked  at  the  operations  of  the  Holy 


TOOK    CHRIST.  421 

Ghost .''  Ah  when  you  shall  see  your  companions 
who  fled  to  Christ  in  this  revival,  shining  "  forth  as 
the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their  Father,"  and  filling 
all  the  arches  of  heaven  with  their  bursting  praise, 
and  you  yourselves  cast  out  among  devils ;  with 
what  agonies  will  you  remember  this  day  as  you 
pour  upon  the  ear  of  hell  the  eternal  lamentation, 
"  The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  we 
are  not  saved !"  How  many  thousand  times  will  you 
wish  that  you  had  gone  to  hell  before  this  revival ; 
that  you  had  been  in  hell  while  those  sermons  were 
preached,  while  those  companions  were  pressing  into 
the  kingdom.  My  poor  hearers,  I  shall  meet  you  at 
that  tribunal.  Perhaps  I  shall  know  you  under  all 
the  disguise  of  damnation.  Perhaps  I  shall  look  in 
your  face  as  you  writhe  in  agony,  and  say.  Why 
would  you  die  ?  why  did  you  not  listen  to  those  en- 
treaties which  used  to  burst  from  breaking  hearts  ? 
O  what  will  be  your  thoughts  then  ?  what  your  deep 
and  torturing  musings  upon  the  past  ?  How  bit- 
terly will  you  lament  your  present  folly, — the  strange 
stupidity  which  now  seals  up  your  senses.  I  hear 
you  cry,  "  For  a  few  vapid  pleasures  I  lost  a  death- 
less soul :  I  might  have  spent  my  eternity  in  yonder 
heaven,  and  now  I  sink  in  everlasting  fire."  Ah, 
my  dear  hearers,  why  should  unbelief  drag  you 
down  to  this  ?  You  do  not  beheve  a  word  of  all 
that  I  am  saying,  or  you  could  not  remain  so  stupid, 
— ^you  would  be  convulsed  with  horror.  But  why 
will  you  not  believe  ?  Why  will  you  not  examine  ? 
Why  will  you  hug  infidelity  as  your  protector  against 
conscience  ?     Why  will  you  love  "  darkness  rather 


422 


THE    BAND    WHICH  TOOK    CHRIST. 


than  light  because"  your  "  deeds"  are  "  evil  ?" 
Why  will  you  refuse  to  come  "  to  the  light  lest" 
your  "  deeds  should  be  reproved  ?"  If  your  unbe- 
lief could  stop  the  approach  of  the  judgment, — 
could  disrobe  Christ  of  his  terrors, — it  might  avail ; 
but  now  it  is  only  marching  up  to  the  battery  of  the 
enemy  with  your  eyes  and  ears  closed.  Can  you 
have  a  particle  of  reason  left  ?  If  you  have  why 
will  you  not  exert  it  ?  Why  will  you  die  ?  How 
long  shall  God  command  you  in  vain  ?  shall  Christ 
entreat  you  in  vain  ?  shall  the  Holy  Spirit  woo  you 
in  vain  ?  How  long  shall  parents,  shall  ministers, 
shall  christian  friends,  beseech  you  and  weep  over 
you  in  vain  ?  But  if  your  purpose  is  unchangeable, 
go,  and  extract  what  you  can  from  the  creature,  and 
break  your  parents'  heart,  and  lie  down  in  hell. 
Go  and  take  your  fill  of  damnation.  But  drag  not 
down  your  companions  with  you.  In  mercy  leave 
them  to  God  and  to  heaven  if  you  yourselves  are 
resolved  to  take  the  plunge. 


SERMON  X. 


THE  FRUITLESS  FIG  TREE. 


Luke  xiii.  6-9. 


He  spoke  also  this  parable.  A  certain  man  had  a  fig  tree  planted  in  his 
vineyard,  and  he  came  and  sought  fruit  thereon  and  found  none.  Then 
said  he  unto  the  dresser  of  the  vineyard,  Behold,  these  three  years  I  come 
seeking  fruit  on  this  fig  tree  and  find  none  :  cut  it  down,  why  cumbereth  it 
the  ground  ?  And  h&answering  said  unto  him,  Lord,  let  it  alone  this  year 
also,  till  I  shall  dig  about  it  and  dung  it :  and  if  it  bear  fruit,  well ;  and  if 
not,  then  after  that  thou  shalt  cut  it  down  ?" 

In  this  parable  the  vineyard  represents  the  visible 
Church,  and  in  a  larger  sense  the  world.  The 
trees  are  the  members  of  the  visible  Church,  and  in 
a  larger  sense  mankind  in  general.  The  planter  and 
owner  of  the  vineyard  is  God.  The  dresser  is  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

The  first  idea  suggested  by  the  parable  is,  that 
men  are  placed  in  this  world  for  no  other  end  than 
to  bring  forth  fruit  to  God.  For  what  other  end  are 
fig  trees  planted  in  the  vineyard  but  to  bring  forth 

*  Preached  in  a  revival  of  religion. 


424  THE    FRUITLESS 

fruit?  You  were  not  sent  into  the  world  to  buy  and 
sell  and  get  gain.  The  only  reason  why  you  are  here 
rather  than  not  here,  is,  that  you  may  have  an  op- 
portunity to  serve  your  Creator  and  Master. 

Another  idea  suggested  is,  that  God  has  an  abso- 
lute right  to  all  the  services  w^hich  men  are  capable 
of  rendering.  Shall  not  he  that  planted  the  vine- 
yard eat  the  fruit  thereof  ?  Has  not  he  who  creat- 
ed the  materials  of  which  you  were  made,  and  then 
formed  them  into  men,  and  breathed  into  them  im- 
mortal souls;  and  created  the  world,  and  placed 
men  in  it,  and  owns  it  all ;  has  he  not  a  right  to  all 
the  services  which  you  can  possibly  render  ?  Can 
you  be  justified  in  living  to  yourselves  a  single 
hour? 

Another  idea  is,  that  to  render  his  vineyard  fruit- 
ful God  has  appointed  one  to  dress  it.  This  dresser, 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  waters  his  trees  with  the  dews 
of  heaven,  fences  round  them  with  his  protecting 
providence,  prunes  them  by  affliction,  and  supports 
them  when  they  are  ready  to  fall,  until  he  can  lift 
his  hand  to  heaven  and  say,  "What  could  have 
been  done  more  to  my  vineyard  that  I  have  not 
done  in  it  ?"  He  has  made  a  full  revelation  of  God 
and  of  a  future  state, — of  man's  duties,  ruin,  and  re- 
covery. He  has  given  his  word  and  ordinances ; 
he  has  sent  out  his  Spirit ;  he  has  filled  the  world 
with  expostulations  and  entreaties ;  until  it  can  be 
said.  If  they  hear  not  these,  neither  would  they  be 
persuaded  though  one  rose  from  the  dead. 

Another  idea  is,  that  God  attentively  watches 
men  to  see  if  they  are  fruitful.     The  owner  of  the 


FIG    TREK  425 

vineyard  is  represented  as  coming  year  after  year ; 
that  is,  as  often  as  fruit  was  to  be  expected.  God 
attentively  observes  men  as  often  as  they  have  an 
opportunity  to  perform  public  or  private  worship,  to 
hear  a  sermon,  to  drop  a  word  of  instruction,  to  re- 
lieve the  poor,  or  to  cast  their  gifts  into  his  treasury. 
On  such  occasions  he  fixes  his  eye  upon  them  as 
though  they  were  the  only  objects  of  his  attention. 
And  as  he  is  always  expecting  fruit,  he  always 
watches  them.  His  eyes  follow  them  into  every 
corner.  If  a  sinful  deed  is  done  in  darkness, — if 
a  vain  word  is  uttered  in  secret, — if  an  unhallowed 
thought  lurks  in  the  heart, — lo  he  knoweth  it  alto- 
gether. 

We  are  further  taught  that  there  are  some  trees 
in  God's  vineyard  on  which,  when  he  comes  year 
after  year  seeking  fruit,  he  finds  none.  Every  un- 
regenerate  man  is  of  this  description.  Though  his 
life  may  be  regular  towards  his  fellow  men, — though 
he  may  observe  the  forms  of  devotion,  and  even 
transact  with  covenants  and  sacraments,  yet  as  his 
heart  is  always  under  the  dominion  of  selfishness, 
he  never  brings  forth  any  fruit  which  a  holy  God 
can  approve.  There  are  many  who  not  only  do 
not  bring  forth  good  fruit,  but  are  constantly  bring- 
ing forth  bad  fruit.  They  profane  the  sabbath, 
they  take  the  name  of  God  in  vain,  they  reproach 
religion  and  its  professors,  they  are  wholly  buried 
up  in  the  world.  A  hundred  times  a  day  they  vio- 
late the  rule  to  do  to  others  as  they  would  have 
others  do  to  them.  How  certain  that  such  do  not 
answer  the  end  for  which  they  were  sent  into  the 

Vol.  I.  54 


426  THE    FRUITLESS 

world.  If  a  figtree,  that  is  good  for  nothing  but  its 
fruit,  remains  barren,  it  answers  no  part  of  the  pur- 
pose for  which  it  was  planted.  It  is  utterly  useless. 
It  cumbers  the  ground.  It  stands  in  the  way  and 
exhausts  the  soil.  It  is  fit  for  nothing  but  to  be  cut 
down  and  cast  into  the  fire.  So  those  who  do 
nothing  for  God  are  only  an  encumbrance  on  the 
face  of  the  earth, — a  grief  to  christians  and  a  stum- 
bling block  to  sinners.  Some  of  them,  by  their 
turbulent  passions,  keep  the  world  in  commotion, 
and  all  of  them,  by  their  vain  and  careless  lives, 
spread  a  moral  pestilence  around  them.  And  since 
they  will  not  do  any  good,  they  are  fit  for  nothing 
but  to  feed  the  flames  which  will  enlighten  the  uni- 
verse into  the  knowledge  of  divine  justice.  Unless 
they  are  made  of  some  use  in  this  way,  their  exis- 
tence will  prove  a  curse  to  the  universe. 

We  are  further  taught  that  God,  wearied  out 
with  coming  year  after  year  seeking  fruit  and  find- 
ing none,  at  length  raises  his  hand  to  cut  the  sin- 
ner down,  and  would  send  him  quick  into  hell,  but 
that  the  Mediator  steps  in  and  pleads.  Father,  spare 
him  a  little  longer,  and  I  will  try  some  more  power- 
ful means  for  such  a  time  ;  if  he  bears  fruit,  well ; 
if  not,  then  after  that  thou  shalt  cut  him  down. 
Now  then  the  matter  is  fairly  at  issue.  The  trial 
is  begun,  in  view  of  heaven  and  earth,  which  is  to 
decide  his  destiny  for  eternity.  It  is  to  be  for  a  li- 
mited time ;  after  which,  if  he  remains  unfruitful, 
he  will  be  destroyed  without  remedy.  Awful  cri- 
sis !  Angels  look  down  snd  tremble  for  the  issue. 
Here  is  one  put  upon  his  last  trial  whom  Christ 


PIG    TREE.  427 

seeks  to  reclaim  by  affliction.  He  teaches  him,  as 
Gideon  taught  the  men  of  Succoth,  with  briers  and 
thorns.  His  affairs  go  wrong,  or  his  health  fails, 
or  his  friends  die.  This  is  the  only  means  selected 
for  the  final  experiment.  If  it  succeeds,  well;  if 
not,  he  is  irrecoverably  lost. 

Here  is  another  put  upon  his  last  trial  whom  the 
Saviour  seeks  to  render  fruitful  by  more  ample 
means  of  instruction  and  impression.  He  puts  re- 
ligious books  into  his  hands.  He  stirs  up  christians 
to  entreat  him.  He  gives  him  more  frequent  op- 
portunities to  attend  religious  meetings.  These  are 
perhaps  the  only  means  chosen  for  the  great  expe- 
riment. If  they  avail,  well ;  if  not,  he  is  forever 
lost. 

Here  is  a  third  put  upon  his  last  trial  to  whom 
Christ  presents  the  example  of  others  pressing  into 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  He  shows  him  a  revival 
of  religion,  with  all  its  solemn  attestations  and  ap- 
peals. If  this  brings  him  to  stretch  out  his  hands 
to  a  passing  Saviour,  the  trial  is  happily  ended ;  if 
not,  his  doom  is  unalterably  fixed. 

Here  is  a  fourth  put  upon  his  last  trial  whom  the 
Saviour  plies  with  still  more  powerful  means.  He 
is  awakened  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  His  danger, 
guilt,  and  ruin  are  laid  open  before  him.  Perhaps 
he  knows  not  what  ails  him,  and  little  thinks  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  is  making  the  last  decisive  expe- 
riment upon  him.  How  it  will  issue  no  man  can 
tell.  Many  go  back  from  every  stage  of  conviction 
and  plunge  into  a  deeper  hell.  If  all  this  light  and 
entreaty  can  bring  him  to  repentance,  well ;  but  if 


428  THE    FRUITLESS 

he  can  hold  out  against  the  calls  of  heaven  a  little 
longer,  he  will  be  left  where  an  angel's  voice  could 
not  break  his  slumbers.  He  will  either  be  cut  down 
like  the  figtree  in  the  vineyard,  or,  like  that  by  the 
way  side,  will  be  smitten  with  the  curse  of  perpe- 
tual barrenness,  and  left  to  grow  drier  and  drier  to 
feed  a  fiercer  flame. 

Here  is  a  fifth  put  upon  his  last  trial  on  whom 
the  Saviour  employs  all  these  means.  He  sends 
afl^ictions  upon  him,  he  multiplies  the  means  of  in- 
struction and  impression,  he  shows  him  others 
pressing  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  he  con- 
vinces him  of  sin.  He  seems  determined  to  make 
one  more  thorough  experiment  upon  him.  If  all 
this  avails,  well ;  if  not,  the  wretch  is  lost  for  eter- 
nity. Infinite  mercy,  interpose  and  decide  the  mat- 
ter favorably! 

After  the  dresser  of  the  vineyard  has  dug  around 
the  figtree  and  manured  it,  if  it  will  not  bear  fruit 
then,  what  more  can  be  done  ?  It  is  proved  to  be 
incorrigibly  barren,  and  is  good  for  nothing  but  to 
feed  the  flames. 

Let  it  be  considered  that  the  time  of  this  last  trial  is 
short  and  precisely  limited.  The  request  was,  "  Let 
it  alone  this  year."  The  probation  was  only  during 
one  season  of  fruit, — ^just  long  enough  to  make  one 
more  fair  experiment.  The  moment  is  fixed  in  every 
case  when  the  last  trial  shall  end.  That  moment 
may  arrive  before  another  morning.  And  if  the 
trial  has  continued  for  weeks,  and  especially  if  the 
persons  exercised  have  struggled  against  the  calls, 
or  suflfered  business  or  trifling  cares  to  divert  them, 


FIG    TREE.  429 

the  evidence  of  their  incorrigibleness  may  be  the 
sooner  obtained,  and  the  trial  may  be  now  near  a 
close.  God  of  mercy,  compel  them  to  seize  the 
critical  moment  before  it  is  forever  too  late  ! 

And  when  the  last  trial  is  closed  and  their  incor- 
rigible barrenness  is  evinced,  why  should  they  not 
be  cut  down  and  cast  into  the  fire  ?  They  never 
will  bear  fruit.  They  will  only  remain  cumberers 
of  the  ground.  Why  should  they  be  spared  ?  It  is 
reasonable  that  barren  figtrees,  after  all  hope  of 
their  fruitfulness  is  gone,  should  be  removed  out  of 
the  way,  and,  since  they  can  be  of  no  other  use, 
should  be  made  fuel  for  the  fire.  And  if  fruitless 
men  had  any  ingenuousness  in  them,  they  would 
not  desire  to  be  left  to  cumber  God's  ground.  If 
they  will  not  do  any  good,  they  ought  not  to  wish 
to  do  hurt. 

There  are  exceptions  to  every  general  rule.  Not 
all  who  have  passed  the  last  trial  without  effect  are 
instantly  cut  down.  Some  are  left  to  stand  as  dry 
trees  with  which  no  further  cultivation  is  to  be  used. 
They  are  abandoned  by  the  Spirit  and  left  only  to 
treasure  up  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath.  So 
that  in  one  sense  they  are  in  a  more  awful  condi- 
tion than  though  they  were  in  hell.  The  reason  of 
their  being  spared  is  distinctly  stated  in  these  tre-- 
mendous  words  :  "  What  if  God,  willing  to  show  his 
wrath  and  make  his  power  known,  endured  with  much 
long  suffering  the  vessels  of  wrath  fitted  to  destruc- 
tion." They  are  left  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  their 
iniquity,  that  the  power  of  God  may  appear  in  their 
more  tremendous  ruin.    Awful  thought !    After  God 


430  THE    FRUITLESS 

has  held  up  the  heavens  for  six  thousand  years, — 
as  though  nothing  had  been  done,  he  has  occasion 
to  show  his  power  by  the  blows  he  inflicts  on  his 
enemies. 

It  is  not  indeed  every  one  who  is  distinctly  called 
that  is  put  upon  his  last  trial.  But  the  following 
are  among  the  symptoms,  though  not  infallible 
symptoms,  that  the  experiment  is  final.  If  the  man 
is  advanced  in  years,  there  is  great  reason  to  think 
that  the  trial  is  the  last.  Few  seem  to  be  called  in 
after  the  middle  of  life ;  and  if  at  that  age  a  special 
call  is  rejected,  there  is  little  prospect  of  another. 
If  the  person  has  formerly  lived  in  revivals  of  reli- 
gion, and  made  a  mock  of  them,  or  even  neglected 
to  improve  them,  it  is  likely  that  this  is  his  last 
trial ;  that  God,  seeing  so  much  evidence  of  incor- 
rigibleness,  had  lifted  his  hand  to  cut  him  down,  when 
the  Intercessor  stepped  in  and  pleaded.  Spare  him 
one  more  season,  and  I  will  try  another  and  a  more 
decisive  experiment  upon  him.  If  he  bears  fruit, 
well;  if  not,  then  after  that  thou  shalt  cut  him 
down.  If  the  person  has  formerly  rejected  many 
calls,  and  now  at  length  is  assailed  by  another  more 
earnest  than  the  rest,  it  is  a  symptom  that  it  is  the 
last.  It  looks  as  though  Christ  was  determined  to 
try  once  for  all  what  could  be  done.  Awful  crisis  ! 
If  when  we  stand  over  a  friend  in  the  turning  point 
of  a  dangerous  fever,  and  see  nature  struggling  be- 
tween death  and  life,  we  anxiously  watch  every 
symptom,  how  can  we  do  otherwise  in  the  present 
case? 

I  would  now  address  myself,  in  the  most  solemn 


FIG    TREE.  431 

manner,  to  the  different  classes  who  have  reason  to 
think  themselves  on  their  last  trial  for  eternity.  But 
I  feel  utterly  unable  to  reach  the  magnitude  of  the 
subject.  I  would  fain  come  at  your  conscience  and 
heart,  but  I  know  not  how  to  bring  the  whole  sub- 
ject with  me.  Stretch  all  your  powers  to  encom- 
pass it  yourselves,  while  I  only  suggest  a  few  im- 
perfect hints. 

Are  there  any  present  who  have  resisted  the  calls 
of  God  all  their  days,  and  are  now  exercised  with 
affliction  ?  Justice,  wearied  out  by  your  long  de- 
lay, had  raised  the  sword  to  cut  you  down,  when 
mercy  pleaded  you  off  for  one  more  trial.  Perhaps 
the  new  cultivation  was  to  consist  wholly  of  afflic- 
tion,— how  long  or  how  liea\y  is  yet  to  be  deter- 
mined. If  your  present  sufferings  are  not  sufficient, 
and  good  is  intended  for  you,  they  w  ill  be  increased. 
But  if  they  finally  fail  of  producing  the  effect,  and 
this  proves  the  last  trial,  you  are  eternally  gone. 
Up  and  press  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  before  it 
is  forever  closed. 

Are  there  any  present  under  the  special  calls  of 
the  Spirit?  Here  my  anxieties  become  intense. 
There  is  reason  to  apprehend  that  this  is  the  last 
trial  with  you  ;  that  exhausted  patience  had  raised 
the  sword  to  cut  you  down,  when  compassion  in-r 
terposed  and  pleaded  you  off  for  one  more  season. 
After  the  word  has  gone  out,  "  My  Spirit  shall  not 
always  strive  with  man,"  can  you  expect  another 
trial  ?  This  season  is  likely  to  be  short,  and  it  is 
precisely  limited.  It  may  end  before  the  setting 
sun.     And  if  it  end  unsuccessfully,  and  prove  the 


432  THE    FRUITLESS 

last,  you  must  either  be  speedly  sent  to  hell,  or  be 
left  to  prepare  for  a  heavier  doom.  How  will  this 
infinitely  important  season  appear  to  you  at  the 
judgment  of  the  great  day  ?  I  beseech  you  to  re- 
gard it  with  fear  and  trembling. 

Are  there  any  present  who  in  former  revivals  were 
stupid  and  mockers,  but  are  now  awakened  ?  Jus- 
tice had  raised  the  sword  to  cut  you  down,  when 
mercy  pleaded  you  off  for  one  more  trial.  And  have 
you  not  reason  to  think  that  this  is  the  last  ?  God 
has  used  his  most  powerful  means  with  you,  and 
what  more  can  he  do  ?  And  when  all  means  fail, 
will  not  the  proof  of  your  incorrigible  barrenness 
be  obtained  ?  And  then  that  word  may  be  fulfilled, 
"He  that,  being  often  reproved,  hardeneth  his  neck, 
shall  suddenly  be  destroyed,  and  that  without  reme- 
dy."    O  submit  before  you  leave  your  seats. 

Are  there  any  present  who  were  formerly  awa- 
kened by  the  Spirit  of  God,  but  returned  to  stu- 
pidity, and  are  now  awakened  again  ?  How  few 
are  thus  favored  the  second  time.  And  consider- 
ing the  many  calls  which  you  have  received  from  the 
word  and  providence  of  God, — from  parents  and  in- 
structors,— can  you  reasonably  expect  another  trial  ? 
Immortal  creatures,  it  is  too  late  to  trifle  with  these 
infinite  concerns.  It  is  distraction  to  delay  another 
moment. 

I  would  next  apply  the  subject  to  those  who  were 
formerly  awakened,  but  cannot  now  be  moved  by 
all  that  is  passing  before  their  eyes.  I  am  at  a  loss 
how  to  consider  your  case  ;  whether  to  regard  you 
as  still  under  trial,  and  these  means  as  sent  to  make 


FIG   TREE.  433 

one  more  experiment  upon  you,  or  to  view  you  as 
abandoned  of  God  and  left  only  to  fill  up  the  mea- 
sure of  your  iniquity.  While  you  remain  stupid 
there  is  not  a  particle  of  evidence  that  you  are  not 
abandoned.  And  if  you  can  continue  thus  through 
the  present  revival,  the  evidence  will  be  great  that 
this  is  your  fearful  condition.  But  if  not  abandoned 
already,  there  is  every  reason  to  think  that  this  is 
your  last  trial.  Sleep  a  little  longer  and  your  case 
will  be  unalterably  fixed,  and  you  must  inevitably 
make  your  bed  in  hell. 

I  would  next  apply  the  subject  to  those  who  were 
unmoved  in  former  revivals  and  remain  unmoved 
in  this.  I  have  two  things  to  say  of  your  case. 
The  first  is,  that  you  have  had  abundant  outward 
means.  The  second  is,  that  God  is  not  obliged  to 
send  his  Spirit  when  men  reject  his  other  calls. 
Should  he  close  your  probation  to-day  you  could 
not  complain.  It  is  by  no  means  certain  therefore 
but  that,  months  ago,  he  raised  his  hand  to  cut  you 
down,  and  mercy  pleaded  you  off"  for  one  final  expe- 
riment. If  so,  and  this  fails,  you  will  either  be  soon 
cut  down  or  left  to  treasure  up  wrath  against  the 
day  of  wrath.  For  millions  of  worlds  I  would  not 
be  in  your  condition  a  single  day.  Where  is  your 
reason  ?  Are  you  resolved  to  go  out  of  the  world 
sleeping?  If  so  the  pains  of  hell  will  awaken  you 
to  purpose. 

I  would  next  apply  the  subject  to  those  who  have 
lived  along  with  an  uncertain  hope,  without  ac- 
knowledging Christ  before  the  world,  or  taking  a 
decided  part  for  him,  or  bringing  forth  fruit.     There 

Vol.  1.  66 


434  THE  FRUITLESS 

is  solemn  reason  to  believe  that  all  the  calls  of 
God  and  all  the  motions  of  his  Spirit  have  received 
nothing  from  you  but  resistance.  Dare  any  of  you 
then  conclude  that  this  is  not  your  last  trial?  Cast 
away  that  delusive  hope,  and  lay  yourselves  down 
at  the  feet  of  Christ,  and  there  die  that  you  may  be 
made  alive. 

I  will  next  apply  the  subject  to  unfruitful  pro- 
fessors. The  Church  is  emphatically  the  vineyard 
of  God,  and  you  are  pre-eminently  barren  trees  in 
the  vineyard.  So  many  years  has  God  come  seek- 
ing fruit  on  you  and  found  none.  Justice  long  ago 
would  have  cut  you  down,  but  mercy  pleaded  you  off 
for  one  more  trial.  There  is  reason  to  think  that 
this  is  the  last.  And  when  all  hope  of  your  fruit- 
fulness  is  gone,  God  may  say,  Cut  them  down,  why 
cumber  they  my  ground?  This  stroke  will  be 
more  likely  to  fall  on  you  than  on  those  who  are 
out  of  the  Church.  The  husbandman,  though  he 
lets  dry  trees  stand  awhile  in  his  common  field,  will 
not  long  suffer  them  in  the  midst  of  his  vineyard. 

I  will  lastly  apply  the  subject  to  all  who  are  out 
of  Christ  and  have  not  passed  their  last  trial.  By 
this  gracious  visitation  you  are  all  brought  to  a  so- 
lemn crisis.  There  is  reason  to  think  that  some  of 
you  in  this  season  will  pass  your  final  trial ;  and 
all  who  remain  unfruitful  after  this,  will  stand  a 
greater  chance  for  perdition  than  they  ever  did  be- 
fore. Could  one  of  you  think  it  strange  if  this 
should  prove  the  last  trial  with  you  ?  Have  you 
not  had  and  misimproved  as  many  means  as  you 
have  reason  to  think  the  generality  of  men  do  be- 


FIG   TREE.  435 

fore  they  are  given  over  ?  If  the  trial  has  been 
upon  you  for  some  time,  and  you  have  remained 
stupid,  the  proof  of  your  incorrigibleness  may 
be  the  sooner  obtained,  and  the  trial  may  be  now 
drawing  to  a  close.  I  put  this  question  to  you  in 
the  name  of  God :  Will  you  improve  the  present 
season  and  live,  or  will  you  run  the  dreadful  hazard 
of  throwing  away  the  price  now  in  your  hands  ? 
Heaven  and  earth  unite  in  crying  to  you.  Seek  the 
Lord  while  he  may  be  found ;  call  upon  him  while 
he  is  near.  Not  always  will  he  be  near ;  not  al- 
ways will  he  be  to  be  found.  When  your  doom  is 
once  sealed,  then  he  will  no  longer  be  near.  When 
you  have  shot  the  gulph,  no  hope  will  visit  you 
more ;  no  sabbath  will  dawn  upon  you  there ;  no 
mercy-seat  will  send  out  its  inviting  voice ;  no  sea- 
son of  prayer  will  ever  return.  How  will  you  then 
look  back  upon  these  assemblies  in  the  house  of 
God  ?  how  to  these  gracious  visitations  of  the  Spi- 
rit, when  your  hands  had  almost  hold  of  the  thresh- 
old of  heaven  ?  How  will  it  rend  your  hearts  to 
hear  him  say,  "  Because  I  have  called  and  ye 
refused ;  I  have  stretched  out  my  hand  and  no  man 
regarded ;  but  ye  have  set  at  naught  all  my  coun- 
sel and  would  none  of  my  reproof;  I  also  will  laugh 
at  your  calamity,  I  will  mock  when  your  fear  coni- 
eth." — But  I  have  done.  My  heart  is  ready  to 
break,  but  it  is  nothing  to  what  you  will  feel.  For 
God  himself  has  said,  "  If  thou  scornest  thou  alone 
shalt  bear  it."  We  can  now  weep  over  you  and 
almost  die  in  your  death ;  but  then — you  alone 
must  bear  it.     Amen. 


SERMON  XL 


HARVEST  PAST  AND  BALM  OF  GILEAD 


Jee.  VIII.  20-22.' 


The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  we  are  not  saved.  For 
the  hurt  of  the  daughter  of  my  people  am  I  hurt.  I  am  black.  Astonish- 
ment hath  taken  hold  on  me.  Is  there  no  balm  in  Gilead  ?  Is  there  no 
physician  there?  Why  then  is  not  the  health  of  the  daughter  of  my  peo- 
ple recovered  ? 

The  Jewish  prophets,  born  and  educated  among 
an  agricultural  people,  borrowed  many  of  the  most 
striking  images  which  adorn  their  writings  from 
scenes  of  husbandry,  and  not  unfrequently  from  the 
season  and  employments  of  harvest.  By  the  latter 
figure  is  sometimes  meant  the  proper  season  for  ac- 
tivity in  divine  things  ;  thus  :  "  He  that  sleepcth  in 
harvest  is  a  son  that  causeth  shame."  At  other 
times  is  meant  by  it  the  end  of  the  world,  when  the 
wheat  shall  be  gathered  into  the  garner  and  the 
tares  burnt  with  unquenchable  fire.    In  our  text  it 

•  Preached  in  a  revival  of  religion. 


438  HARVEST    PAST    AND 

may  mean  either  or  both  of  these.  When  the  word 
summer  is  used  metaphorically  by  the  sacred  wri- 
ters, it  always  means  the  proper  season  to  lay  in 
provisions  for  a  future  day:  thus  :  "  He  that  gathe- 
reth  in  summer  is  a  wise  son."  The  first  part  of 
the  text  may  therefore  be  paraphrased  thus :  The 
season  to  discharge  the  great  duties  of  life  is  past, 
the  time  allotted  to  lay  in  provisions  for  futurity  is 
ended,  and  we  are  not  saved.  Or  if  the  text  is  sup- 
posed to  look  forward  to  the  end  of  the  world,  then 
its  meaning  will  be :  The  awful  process  of  gather- 
ing the  wheat  and  burning  the  tares  is  past :  the 
concluding  scene  is  closed  :  ended  is  the  whole  pe- 
riod allotted  mankind  to  lay  in  provisions  for  eter- 
nity :  the  last  chance  is  over,  and  we  are  not  saved. 

In  the  next  verse  the  prophet  takes  up  a  tender 
lamentation  over  his  unhappy  people.  In  all  the. 
bitterness  of  heart-felt  wo  he  exclaims,  "  For  the 
hurt  of  the  daughter  of  my  people  am  I  hurt.  I  am 
black :  [either,  I  am  clad  in  mourning,  or,  I  walk 
in  darkness.]  Astonishment  hath  taken  hold  on 
me."  Jeremiah  was  a  man  whose  heart-strings 
seemed  attuned  to  wo.  "  One  would  think,"  says 
Dr.  South,  "  that  every  letter  was  written  with  a 
tear ;  that  every  word  was  the  noise  of  a  breaking 
heart;  that  the  author  was  a  man  compacted  of 
sorrows  ;  disciplined  to  grief  from  his  infancy;  one 
who  never  breathed  but  in  sighs  nor  spoke  but  in  a 
groan." 

Having  thus  vented  his  grief,  he  makes  the  ten- 
der inquiry,  why  need  it  be  ?  "  Is  there  no  balm 
in  Gilead  ?     Is  there  no  physician  there  ?     Why 


BALM    OF    GILEAD.  439 

then  is  not  the  health  of  the  daughter  of  my  people 
recovered  ?"  Gilead  was  the  name  of  the  country 
east  of  Jordan,  which  fell  to  Reuben  and  Gad  and 
half  of  Manasseh.  As  early  as  the  time  of  Jacob 
it  was  celebrated  for  a  medicinal  balm,  known  in 
commerce,  and  which  in  later  ages  furnished  a 
figure  to  illustrate  the  healing  virtue  of  the  Gospel. 

In  further  pursuing  the  text,  I  shall  take  its  parts 
in  an  order  somewhat  inverted. 

"  For  the  hurt  of  the  daughter  of  my  people  am 
I  hurt.  I  am  black.  Astonishment  hath  taken  hold 
on  me."  Serious  indeed  must  be  the  state  of  sin- 
ners, if  a  faint  view  of  it  can  fill  the  pious  heart 
with  so  much  grief  and  astonishment.  Extreme 
must  be  that  ruin,  a  glimpse  of  which  could  cause 
the  distressed  prophet  to  cry,  "  O  that  my  head 
were  waters  and  my  eyes  a  fountain  of  tears,  that 
I  might  weep  day  and  night  for  the  slain  of  the 
daughter  of  my  people."  Awful  must  be  that  wrath, 
a  sight  of  which  could  press  the  blood  through  the 
pores  of  the  agonized  Saviour,  and  to  deliver  men 
from  which  he  could  come  down  from  above  all 
heights  to  the  manger  and  the  garden  and  the  cross. 

And  why  will  they  die  ?  "  Is  there  no  balm  in 
Gilead  ?  Is  there  no  physician  there  ?"  Why  do 
wretched  millions  lie  weltering  in  their  blood  ?  Why 
does  a  demolished  world  lie  in  ruins  ?  Wliy  do  in- 
fatuated nations  rush  down  together  to  eternal  de- 
spair ?  Why  must  the  benevolent  cry  over  a  dying 
world,  as  they  did  over  wretched  Moab  :  "  O  vine 
of  Sibmah,  I  will  weep  for  thee  with  the  weeping 
of  Jazer."     "  I  will  water  thee  with  my  tears,  O 


440  HARVEST    PAST    AND 

Heshbon  and  Elealeh. — My  bowels  shall  sound  like 
a  harp  for  Moab,  and  my  inward  parts  for  Kirha- 
resh  ?"  Why  do  multitudes  on  every  side  swarm 
the  road  to  ruin,  and  urge  their  impetuous  course, 
and  never  slack  till  they  plunge  into  eternal  death  ? 
Is  it  because  no  remedy  is  provided?  Not  so: 
there  is  balm  in  Gilead  and  an  able  Physician  there. 
God  has  not  been  wanting  on  his  part.  He  can  ap- 
peal to  heaven  and  earth,  "  What  could  have  been 
done  more — that  I  have  not  done  ?" 

The  providing  of  this  Physician  and  balm  proved 
that  men  were  sick.  Aye,  sick  unto  death  in  the 
whole  head  and  heart.  "From  the  sole  of  the  foot 
even  unto  the  head  there  is  no  soundness."  All  is 
"  wounds  and  bruises  and  putrifying  sores."  The 
disease  has  turned  the  brain  and  induced  madness. 
Like  many  other  maniacs,  while  deeply  diseased, 
they  fancy  themselves  in  perfect  health.  They 
spurn  the  remedy,  and  account  their  best  friends 
their  greatest  enemies  for  urging  it  upon  them. 
They  are  constantly  struggling  to  destroy  them- 
selves. 

But  "  is  there  no  balm  in  Gilead  ?  is  there  no 
physician  there  ?"  Yes,  all  the  rivers  flow  with 
balm,  and  a  Physician  there  is  as  powerful  as  God, 
who  oflfers  his  healing  aid  "  without  money  and 
without  price." 

When  it  became  manifest  that  God  must  aban- 
don his  law  or  the  human  race  or  sacrifice  his  Son, 
he  "  spared  not  his  own  Son  but  delivered  him  up 
for  us  all."  By  sufferings  never  endured  by  ano- 
ther, the  Saviour  fully  answered  the  purpose  of  our 


BALM    OF    GILEAD.  441 

punishment,  and  by  his  obedience  he  purchased  for 
us  all  the  positive  blessings  of  both  worlds.  And 
now  if  we  want  pardon,  his  expiation  and  covenant- 
claim  secure  it.  If  we  want  sanctification  as  well 
as  pardon,  he  is  exalted  "  to  be  a  Prince  and  a  Sa- 
viour,— to  give  repentance  to  Israel  and  forgiveness 
of  sins."  He  is  our  Prophet  to  teach  us;  he  is 
our  king  to  rule,  protect,  and  enrich  us.  He  is 
"  the  first  born  among  many  brethren,"  the  "  Heir" 
under  whom  the  "  joint  heirs"  inherit.  He  "  is 
made  unto  us  wisdom  and  righteousness  and  sanc- 
tification and  redemption."  He  is  our  refuge  from 
all  the  cares  and  ills  of  life.  He  supplies  all  our 
wants,  and  prevents  all  the  evils  we  shun.  In  all  re- 
spects he  is  just  such  a  Saviour  as  we  need.  There 
is  an  infinite  fulness  in  him.  His  willingness  to  save 
is  equal  to  his  power.  When  our  astonished  eyes 
follow  him  through  the  labors  and  suflferings  of  his 
life,  we  perceive,  not  only  a  willingness,  but  an  un- 
speakable eagerness  to  save.  We  see  none  turned 
from  his  door,  but  find  him,  with  untiring  zeal  and 
pity,  seeking  the  lost  sheep  upon  the  mountains. 
If  we  go  to  his  Gospel,  and  listen  to  the  invitations 
and  entreaties  which  there  forever  plead,  or  if  we 
mark  his  providence,  and  see  the  warnings  and  long 
suffering  there  displayed,  and  the  wooings  of  the 
Spirit,  our  impression  will  be  the  same.  He  is  infi- 
nitely willing  and  able  to  save.  There  is  indeed 
balm  in  Gilead  and  a  Physician  there. 

"  Why  then  is  not  the  health  of  the  daughter  of 
my  people  recovered?"  The  Physician  himself  has 
told  us  :  "  Ye  will  not  come  to  me  that  ye  might 

Vol.  I.  56 


442  HARVEST    PAST    AND 

have  life."  To  this  charge  however  sinners  do  not 
readily  plead  guilty.  They  often  say,  I  would  give 
all  the  world  for  an  interest  in  Christ,  but  I  cannot 
obtain  it.  While  under  strong  apprehensions  of 
future  wrath,  they  may  indeed  consent  to  part  with 
present  comforts  to  purchase  future  safety  ;  and 
knowino-  Christ  to  be  the  only  Saviour,  they  may  in- 
directly desire  him,  just  as  a  sick  man  desires  a 
disagreeable  potion  for  the  recovery  of  his  health. 
But  a  direct  desire  after  Christ,  arising  from  a  view 
of  his  loveliness  and  the  glory  of  the  Gospel,  never 
dwelt  in  unsanctified  souls.  While  the  heart  re- 
mains "  enmity  against  God"  and  in  love  with  sin, 
it  cannot  desire  a  way  of  salvation  which  lends  all 
its  influence  to  support  the  law  and  to  condemn  sin. 
But  the  particular  reasons  for  refusing  to  come  to 
Christ,  are  selfishness,  pride,  and  unbelief.  Sel- 
fishness takes  the  sinner's  part  and  pleads  not  guilty 
to  the  charges  of  the  law,  and  thus  denies  the  need 
of  a  Saviour.  Pride  cannot  come  down  to  the  state 
of  a  criminal  and  to  the  feet  of  Christ,  and  sue  for 
pardon  on  account  of  another.  It  clings  to  self- 
righteousness  and  makes  demands  on  God,  and 
when  denied,  rises  in  angry  resentments  against 
him ;  and  then  goes  to  work  with  greater  earnest- 
ness, under  the  notion  of  offering  a  greater  price. 
Selfishness  and  pride  beget  unbelief;  and  unbelief 
excludes  a  realizing  sense  of  every  thing, — of  God, 
law,  sin,  the  Saviour,  the  reality  of  his  appoint- 
ment, the  sincerity  of  the  invitation,  and  the  truth 
of  the  promise.  The  fault  is  altogether  with  the 
sinner.     "How  often   would  I  have  gathered  thy 


BALM    OP    GILEAD.  443 

children  together,  even  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chick- 
ens under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not."  His  blood 
therefore  must  be  upon  his  own  head.  If  he  mourns 
at  the  last  when  his  flesh  and  his  body  are  consumed, 
he  must  pour  upon  the  ear  of  hell  the  eternal  com- 
plaint, "  How  have  I  hated  instruction  and  my  heart 
despised  reproof."  "  The  harvest  is  past,  the  sum- 
mer is  ended,  and  we  are  not  saved." 

In  contemplating  these  affecting  words,  the  im- 
pression comes  over  us  that  the  present  life  is  the 
season  to  perform  all  our  duties  to  God  and  man, 
and  to  lay  in  all  our  provisions  for  eternity.  The 
great  errand  on  which  we  came  into  the  world,  was 
to  do  the  work  of  God  and  to  prepare  to  leave  it. 
Of  how  little  value  are  all  the  pleasures  and  profits 
of  this  life  viewed  in  any  other  light  than  as  related 
to  eternity.  The  idols  which  we  most  fondly  in- 
fold in  our  arms,  will  soon  be  torn  from  our  em- 
brace and  crumble  into  dust.  Tekel  is  inscribed  on 
all  the  charms  of  a  world  groaning  under  the  curse 
of  Adam's  God.  This  state  was  intended  for  a 
higher  end  than  that  of  present  enjoyment.  It  was 
designed  for  a  school  in  which  to  learn  lessons  of 
God,  of  his  government  and  works, — of  Christ  and 
the  wonders  of  grace, — to  catch  the  spirit  of  heaven, 
to  become  inured  to  obedience,  and  trained  to  the 
employments  of  the  heavenly  world.  The  com- 
forts of  earth  are  bestowed,  not  so  much  for  their 
own  intrinsic  value,  as  for  helps  to  further  us  on 
our  way  to  heaven.  That  comfort  which  does  not 
answer  this  purpose,  ceases  to  be  a  blessing,  and 
fails  of  the  end  for  which  it  was  bestowed. 


444  HARVEST    PAST    AND 

What  ought  deeply  to  impress  us  is,  that  this 
golden  season  will  soon  be  closed.  The  summer 
of  life  will  soon  flit  away  like  the  evanescent  shades 
of  night,  and  the  vision  of  our  worldly  hopes  and 
calculations  will  burst  like  a  morning  dream.  The 
joys  which  we  inherit  below  the  sun  will  in  succes- 
sion soon  forsake  us,  or  we  shall  at  once  take  our 
leave  of  them.  And  even  though  we  outlive  all 
our  comforts,  and  for  a  few  days  longer  water  this 
vale  with  our  tears,  yet  the  end  of  our  pilgrimage 
will  come;  a  joyful  event  which  will  lay  to  rest 
many  a  weary  soul, — a  dreadful  event  which  will  be 
to  many  but  the  beginning  of  sorrow.  Not  a  per- 
son in  all  those  seats,  however  young,  but  must  soon 
become  a  breathless  lump  of  clay,  and  have  done 
with  all  the  busy  scenes  of  life,  with  the  means  of 
grace,  and  with  a  preparation  for  a  never  ending 
eternity.  Our  convenient  habitations  must  soon  be 
exchanged  for  the  dark  and  narrow  house,  our  dear- 
est friends  for  the  company  of  worms,  and  our 
downy  pillows  for  the  cold  clods  of  the  valley. 
The  places  which  now  know  us  will  know  us  no 
more  forever.  We  shall  become  strangers  in  our 
father's  house.  A  new  generation  will  arise  to  oc- 
cupy our  seats.  A  few  surviving  relatives  may  for 
a  time  remember  that  we  lived ;  but  those  few  will 
soon  follow  us  to  the  land  of  silence.  We  shall  no 
longer  be  missed.  Our  names  will  be  forgotten  on 
earth.  Strangers  will  walk  over  our  graves  with- 
out knowing  that  we  ever  had  existence.  The 
world  will  not  be  changed  by  our  departure.  Sea- 
sons will  revolve  and  the  sun  will  arise  and  set  as 


BALM    OP    GILEAD.  445 

usual.  Mirth  and  diversion  will  be  as  brisk  as  ever. 
No  one  on  earth  will  care  for  our  joys  or  sorrows, 
while  we  shall  be  either  spreading  our  pinions  in 
the  regions  of  immortal  day  and  skimming  the  air 
of  paradise,  or  —  or  — how  shall  I  express  it  ? —  or 
be  tossing  on  the  fiery  billows  of  the  wrath  of  an 
infinite  God,  where  all  the  millions  of  ruined  sinners 
will  roar  forth  the  eternal  complaint,  "  The  harvest 
is  past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  we  are  not  saved." 
O  let  our  excited  souls  approach  and  see  a  wretch- 
ed sinner  looking  back  to  a  misspent  life  with  this 
dismal  lamentation  upon  his  tongue.  Enter  his 
gloomy  chamber,  ye  who  have  nerves  to  endure  the 
sight.  Look  through  the  mournful  curtains,  if  room 
can  be  found  among  the  weeping  friends.  See  the 
writhings  of  his  agony.  Mark  the  wild  despair  of 
his  glaring  eye.  His  quivering  lips  attempt  to 
speak.  "  O  earth,  earth,  earth,  open  and  receive  a 
wretch,  who  is  called  to  appear  before  an  angry 
God,  and  who  dares  not,  cannot  go.  O  eternity, 
eternity,  who  can  enter  thee  when  thou  art  filled 
with  fire  ?  O  life,  how  hast  thou  been  spent  ?"  A 
convulsion  stops  his  voice.  Support  that  sinking 
mother  and  that  fainting  sister.  Ilis  cries  are  heard 
again.  "A  thousand  worlds  for  one  more  year, — 
for  one  more  day.  O  my  soul,  what  will  become 
of  thee  ?  And  must  I  go  ?  I  cannot.  And  yet  I 
must.  I  cannot.  But  O  there  is  no  reprieve,  and 
plunge  I  must,  this  moment,  into  eternal  burnings." 
What  spectacle  so  awful  this  side  of  the  regions  of 
the  damned?  My  flesh  trembles,  and  my  spirit 
cries  "  Let  me  die  the  death  oi  the  righteous,  and 
let  my  last  end  be  like  his." 


446  HARVEST    PAST    AND 

Or  if  we  understand  by  the  harvest  the  end  of 
the  world,  how  dreadful  will  be  the  condition  of 
those  who  will  then  have  this  lamentation  to  make. 

The  process  of  the  general  judgment  will  be  so 
awfully  interesting  as  to  awaken  the  strongest  emo- 
tions of  three  worlds.  To  see  the  judge  descend 
with  ten  thousand  of  his  saints, — the  sepulchres  of 
many  generations  broken  open, — columns  of  rising 
dead  filling  all  the  air,  some  with  shrieks  and  some 
with  hallelujahs  on  their  tongues, — some  surrounded 
with  the  glories  of  the  sun,  and  others  stamped  with 
the  horrid  emblems  of  the  damned, — the  earth  and 
the  heavens  on  fire, — all  the  works  of  God  in  con- 
fusion and  uproar, — the  universe  disjointed  and 
falling  to  ruins, — the  spirits  in  heaven  descending 
with  songs  to  judgment, — the  affrighted  ghosts  of 
hell  coming  out  of  their  prison  convulsed  with  hor- 
ror ;  to  hear  saints  and  angels  shouting  their  tri- 
umphs and  thanksgivings,  and  devils  and  damned 
men  uttering  their  most  piteous  shrieks  of  wo  and 
vomiting  out  their  raging  blasphemies  ;  O  this  will 
be  an  awful  day  !  And  when  the  moment  comes 
for  the  two  armies  to  separate  to  different  worlds, 
will  you  not  desire  to  ascend  with  the  righteous  ? 
Can  your  heart  endure  to  be  torn  from  your  godly 
relatives,  and  as  you  turn  to  enter  the  regions  of 
night,  to  say,  "  Farewell,  my  father,  mother,  wife, 
and  children.  Farewell  ye  worlds  of  light, — ye 
joys  which  once  I  knew.  And  hail,  ye  haunts  of 
devils  and  ye  regions  of  the  damned.  Ye  alone 
are  left  me  of  all  that  this  universe  contains ;  and 
never,  never  shall  I  have  more?"     Ye  deathless 


BALM    OP    GILEAD.  447 

souls,  in  the  name  of  the  eternal  God  I  charge  you 
not  to  have,  in  that  day,  this  lamentation  to  make. 

From  the  heights  of  these  sublime  and  awful 
wonders,  I  descend  to  earth  to  cry  in  the  ears  of 
my  beloved  hearers,  Prepare  for  the  great  and  ter- 
rible day  of  the  Lord. — As  life  in  general  is  a  har- 
vest season,  certain  portions  of  it  are  so  in  a  pecu- 
liar sense. 

1.  Such  is  the  period  of  youth.  If  provisions 
are  made  for  eternity,  it  is  many  to  one  that  they 
will  be  made  before  this  season  passes  off.  It  is 
generally  thought  that  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the 
elect  are  called  in  under  the  age  of  twenty.  So 
strongly  fixed  are  the  associations  which  are  formed 
in  early  life,  and  the  habits  which  are  founded  on 
those  associations,  that  the  character  is  generally 
settled  for  both  worlds  before  the  days  of  manhood. 
One  of  the  commonest  and  most  subtle  of  Satan's 
temptations  is  to  persuade  youth  to  postpone  reli- 
gion till  future  life,  and  to  encourage  them  to  hope 
that  little  hazard  will  be  incurred  by  the  delay;  but 
never  was  a  greater  falsehood  uttered  by  the  father 
of  lies.  Yet  it  is  his  constant  resort,  and  the  most 
successful  of  all  his  devices.  He  knows  if  he  can 
prevail  in  this,  he  is  likely  to  prevail  finally,  and 
therefore  he  bends  his  chief  attention  to  this  point : 
and  silly  youth,  unwarned  by  the  millions  thus  se- 
duced to  ruin,  believe  and  follow  him,  "  as  the  ox 
goeth  to  the  slaughter,  or  as  a  fool  to  the  correc- 
tion of  the  stocks." 

My  dear  young  friends,  the  present  is  the  har- 
vest season  of  your  lives.     Could  you  realize  its 


448  HARVEST    PAST    AND 

unspeakable  importance,  you  would  not  let  it  pass 
unimproved.  O  devote  yourselves  to  early  piety. 
Fulfil  the  joy  of  your  pious  parents,  and  dry  up 
those  tears  which  have  often  flowed  for  you  in  se- 
cret, by  remembering  your  Creator  in  the  days  of 
your  youth.  Let  not  the  almond  tree  blossom  on 
your  heads  before  He  who  dwelt  between  the  che- 
rubims  has  taken  up  his  abode  in  your  hearts. 
When  "  the  evil  days"  of  age  shall  "  come"  and 
"the  years  draw  nigh"  in  which  you  shall  "say, 
I  have  no  pleasure  in  them,"  may  not  your  dim 
eyes  be  then  drenched  in  tears  while  looking  back 
on  misspent  youth,  nor  your  hearts  surcharged 
already  with  suflicient  sorrow,  be  forced  to  heave 
the  unavailing  sigh,  "  The  harvest  is  past,  the  sum- 
mer is  ended,  and  we  are  not  saved." 

2.  Such  also  is  the  season  of  a  revival  of  reli- 
gion. "  Think  not  to  say  within  yourselves,"  We 
are  not  awakened,  and  therefore  it  is  no  harvest 
season  to  us.  As  well  might  the  sleeper  in  the 
time  of  the  natural  harvest  say.  It  is  no  harvest  sea- 
son to  me  because  I  refuse  to  work.  It  is  a  har- 
vest season  to  him,  and  he  must  answer  for  it.  To 
the  veriest  sleeper  the  harvest  oflfers  the  most  fa- 
vorable season  for  successful  labor,  and  the  sum- 
mer, the  best  season  to  lay  in  provisions  for  win- 
ter. Such  a  season  is  now  afforded  you  all.  A 
faithful  attendance  on  means,  or  even  one  solemn 
effort  to  think  or  pray,  may  now  be  attended  with 
effects  far  greater  than  at  other  times.  The  Spirit 
is  now  offered  to  all,  and  stands  ready  to  assist  the 
beginning  of  every  humble  and  earnest  effort.     The 


BALM    OF    GILEAD.  449 

chances  are  far  greater  than  at  other  times  for  every- 
one in  particular  that  he  will  fill  his  granary  with 
immortal  fruits.  Your  chances  for  conversion  in 
stupid  times  are  very  small.  Two  or  three  in  an 
ordinary  congregation  in  the  course  of  a  year,  are 
as  many  as  can  be  expected.  But  what  are  these 
to  the  number  of  births  within  the  same  bounds  of 
time?  If  you  are  to  be  saved  there  are  many 
chances  to  one  that  you  will  be  converted  in  a  re- 
vival. But  when  if  not  in  this?  If  you  ever  live  to 
see  another,  it  will  find  you  older  and  a  less  proba- 
ble subject ;  it  will  find  you  harder  and  less  likely 
to  be  subdued ;  it  will  find  you  laden  with  the  guilt 
of  rejecting  this  call,  and  therefore  less  likely  to  be 
approached  by  the  Spirit,  and  perhaps  sealed  over 
to  hardness  of  heart.  The  abuse  of  this  harvest 
season  will  involve  infinitely  more  guilt  and  danger 
than  you  imagine.  It  is  the  highest  reach  of  mad- 
ness to  neglect  another  hour  to  press  into  the  king- 
dom of  God.  O  that  that  voice  from  heaven  might 
be  heard  again,  bearing  upon  you  with  boundless 
authority  and  love,  "  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he 
may  be  found ;  call  ye  upon  him  while  he  is  near." 
God  forbid  that  any  of  you  should  throw  away  so 
infinitely  important  an  opportunity  to  make  your 
fortune  for  eternity,  and  have  a  few  months  hence, 
to  cry,  with  regrets  which  come  too  late,  "  The  har- 
vest is  past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  we  arc  not 
saved." 

3.  Such,  in  a  very  special  sense,  is  the  season 
with  a  sinner  when  the  Spirit  of  God  is  moving  upon 
his  mind.     This  aftbrds  advantages  and  imposes 

Vol.  I.  57 


450  HARVEST    PAST    AND 

obligations  beyond  all  others.  It  is  the  Spirit  rous- 
ing a  soul  from  sleep  and  convincing  him  of  his 
guilt  and  ruin  and  helplessness,  and  bringing  home 
to  his  conscience  the  general  truths  of  the  Bible, 
and  whispering  in  his  ear  a  particular  invitation  to 
come  home  to  a  Saviour's  arms.  It  is  the  Spirit 
preparing  the  way  for  him  to  come  to  a  Saviour's 
feet  with  a  distinct  understanding  of  his  necessities 
and  of  what  he  owes  to  his  Deliverer ;  so  that,  if 
he  has  a  mind  to  believe,  nothing  shall  stand  in 
the  way  of  an  enlightened  faith.  It  is  the  Spirit 
coming  near  and  offering  his  own  assistance  to 
carry  the  man  through  to  heaven  if  he  will  only 
cast  himself  on  him.  It  is  putting  salvation  more 
immediately  within  his  reach.  It  is  bringing  all  the 
discoveries  and  truths  of  God  nearer  to  him,  and 
into  contact  with  the  sensibilities  of  his  soul,  and 
making  their  authority  and  claims  to  bear  upon  him 
directly  and  most  powerfully.  It  is  bringing  him 
near  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  opening  the 
door,  and  showing  him  the  Saviour  within,  and 
urging  him  to  enter,  and  pressing  him  from  behind 
with  all  the  authority  in  the  universe  and  with  all 
the  boundless  force  of  truth.  Is  not  such  a  mo- 
ment of  all  others  the  harvest  season  of  the  soul  ? 
Is  it  not  the  time  to  act  for  God  if  ever  there  is  a 
time  ?  Is  it  not  of  all  periods  the  summer  to  lay  in 
provisions  for  eternity?  There  is  an  importance 
and  a  sacredness  hanging  around  this  moment 
which  belong  to  no  other, — a  weight  of  obligation 
which  can  scarcely  be  increased.  Under  all  these 
circumstances  is  it  not  the  great  crisis  to  act  arid 


BALM    OF    GILEAD.  451 

to  provide  for  eternity  ?  What  tremendous  guilt 
and  hazard  if  this  moment  is  abused, — if,  right  in 
the  eye  and  ear  of  God,  there  is  a  refusal  to  act. 
My  immortal  friends,  I  cannot  hold  my  peace.  In 
the  midst  of  this  awful  crisis,  and  environed  with 
all  these  solemn  obligations,  here  you  are  holding 
out  against  God.  Instead  of  falling  dissolved  at  his 
feet  under  mercies  so  wonderful  and  distinguishing, 
you  are  fighting  against  him, — you  are  hating  him  ; 
— you  never  loved  nor  thanked  him  ;  you  are  re- 
jecting the  Saviour  and  putting  your  own  duties  in 
the  room  of  his  atonement  and  righteousness  and 
intercession  ;  you  are  rejecting  the  Spirit  and  put- 
ting your  own  power  in  the  room  of  his  proffered 
assistance ;  you  are  disobeying  the  Spirit  and  re- 
fusing to  do  any  thing  that  he  suggests  except  the 
outward  form,  and  are  taking  strong  measures  to 
grieve  him  from  you  forever.  You  are  wrong  in 
every  thing  and  do  nothing  right.  How  long  shall 
this  abominable  state  of  heart  continue  ?  How  long 
shall  this  horrid  ingratitude  remain  ?  O  that  you 
knew,  in  this  your  day,  the  things  which  belong  to 
your  peace,  before  they  are  hidden  from  your  eyes. 
Why  should  you  hold  out  against  God  another  mo- 
ment? He  commands  you,  O  rebel,  now  to  lay 
down  your  arms.  Will  you  obey  God  and  live,  or 
will  you  disobey  him  and  die  ?  I  wait  for  your  re- 
ply. What  answer  shall  I  carry  back  to  him  that 
sent  me  ?  All  heaven  is  waiting  to  hear ;  what  is 
your  answer  ?  Shall  I  come  around  among  those 
seats  and  ask  you  one  by  one,  what  is  your  deci- 
sion ?    Have  you  made  up  your  mind  ?    Why  this 


452  HARVEST    PAST    AND 

delay  ?  Ah  and  you  will  delay  ;  and  some  of  you, 
I  fear,  will  go  back  to  seven  fold  darkness, — to  in- 
fidelity itself,— to  open  vice,— to  an  early  grave,— 
to  a  hell  lower  than  that  of  pagans, — than  that  of  de- 
vils. How  distressing  to  think  that  any  of  you 
should  turn  this  affecting  grace  of  God  into  an  eter- 
nal curse  ;  that  you  should  have  to  look  back  from 
the  profoundest  deeps  of  hell  to  this  blessed  season, 
and  pour  forth  the  heart-rending  and  perpetual  la- 
mentation, "  The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is 
ended,  and  we  are  not  saved." 

Before  I  conclude  I  must  address  a  few  words  to 
the  impenitent  in  general.  When  I  consider  the 
infinite  and  eternal  evils  into  which  you  are  plung- 
ing, "  for  the  hurt  of  the  daughter  of  my  people  am 
I  hurt."  To  think  of  seeing  you  eternally  crying 
for  a  drop  of  water,  is  more  than  I  can  bear.  And  , 
why  will  you  die  ?  Why  need  you  die  ?  "  Is  there 
no  balm  in  Gilead  ?  Is  there  no  physician  there  ?" 
Is  there  no  mercy  in  the  heart  of  God  ?  "  As  I  live, 
saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death 
of  the  wicked,  but  that  the  wicked  turn  from  his 
way  and  live."  If  there  is  any  sincerity  in  the  God 
of  truth,  your  blood  must  be  upon  your  own  head. 
You  are  deliberately  committing  the  highest  and 
most  flagitious  act  of  suicide.  Stop,  I  beseech 
you,  that  murderous  hand.  Have  mercy  on  your 
own  soul.  When  you  shall  see  your  former  com- 
panions in  heaven,  who  fled  to  Christ  in  this  revi- 
val, and  you  yourselves  eternally  cast  out,  what 
agonies  of  regret  will  fill  your  soul.  Then  we  can 
no  longer  pray  for  you  nor  pray  to  you.    We  must 


BALM    OF    GILEAD.  453 

acquiesce  in  your  damnation,  and  say,  Alleluiah,  as 
the  smoke  of  your  torment  ascendeth  up  forever  and 
ever.  But  at  present  the  thought  is  very  afflicting. 
How  does  it  seem  to  you  ?  Would  you  for  ten  thou- 
sand worlds  be  found  at  last  in  the  circumstances 
which  have  been  described?  I  can  say  no  more;  and 
"  if  ye  will  not  hear, — -my  soul  shall  weep  in  secret 
places  for  your  pride,  and  my  eye  shall  weep  sore 
and  run  down  with  tears,  because  the  Lord's  flock 
is  carried  away  captive  "  to  that  land  from  which 
there  is  no  return.    Amen. 


SERMON  XII. 


WHAT  WILT  THOU  SAY  WHEN  HE  SHALL  PUNISH  THEE? 


Jer.  xih.  21. 
What  wilt  thou  say  when  he  shall  punish  thee  ? 

The  time  had  come  when  God  was  about  to  call 
the  Jewish  nation  to  an  awful  account.  Wliilc  the 
storm  of  war  was  gathering  in  the  north,  and  had 
almost  rolled  itself  to  their  door,  the  distressed  pro- 
phet was  sent  to  say  to  them,  "Thus  saith  the 
Lord,  Behold  I  will  fill  all  the  inhabitants  of  this 
land — with  drunkenness,  and  I  will  dash  them  one 
against  another,  even  the  fathers  and  the  sons  to- 
gether.— I  will  not  pity  nor  spare  nor  have  mercy." 
This  holy  man,  who  was  disciplined  to  grief  from 
his  infancy,  whose  tones  seemed  always  the  sounds 
of  a  breaking  heart,  set  himself  to  mourn  over  them 
and  entreat  them.  "  Hear  ye  and  give  ear ;  be  not 
proud,  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken. — But  if  ye  will 


456  WHAT   WILT    THOU    SAY 

not  hear  it,  my  soul  shall  weep  in  secret  places  for 
your  pride,  and  my  eye  shall  weep  sore  and  run 
down  with  tears."  He  then  puts  this  penetrating 
question :  "  What  wilt  thou  say  when  he  shall  pu- 
nish thee  ?" — After  all  he  turns  away  discouraged, 
and  cries,  "  Can  the  Ethiopean  change  his  skin  or 
the  leopard  his  spots  ?  then  may  ye  also  do  good 
that  are  accustomed  to  do  evil." 

The  same  question  may  be  put  to  sinners  in 
every  age  and  place.  God  has  solemnly  declared 
that  he  will  punish  the  wicked  with  everlasting  de- 
struction. And  when  he  shall  summon  you  to  his 
bar,  and  explain  the  grounds  of  his  conduct,  and 
with  the  approbation  of  every  conscience  in  the 
universe  banish  you  to  your  eternal  prison,  what  will 
you  then  say,  poor,  ruined  sinner  ?  What  reason 
can  you  offer  why  sentence  should  not  be  executed 
upon  you  ?  What  can  you  allege  against  the  jus- 
tice of  your  doom  ?  To  this  question  I  must  insist 
on  an  unwavering  answer.  And  to  enable  you  to 
meet  it  with  clearness  and  precision,  I  will, 

I.  Lead  you  to  reflect  on  that  change  of  circum- 
stances which  will  be  favorable  to  a  correct  judg- 
ment. 

II.  Examine  the  several  pleas  which  may  be  sup- 
posed then  to  offer  themselves  to  your  thoughts. 

I.  I  will  lead  you  to  reflect  on  that  change  of 
circumstances  which  will  be  favorable  to  a  correct 
judgment. 

All  that  infidelity  which  now  bhnds  your  minds 
will  then  be  done  away.  You  will  see  that  there  is 
a  God,  as  you  now  see  that  your  parents  and  child- 


WHEN    HE    SHALL    PUNISH    THEE?  457 

ren  exist.  You  will  see  that  God  was  your  Crea- 
tor, Proprietor,  and  Master,  who  put  you  into  his 
world  and  supported  you  in  it  that  you  might  labor 
for  him ;  that  he  put  you  under  law  and  commanded 
you  to  serve  him ;  that  all  your  sins  and  all  the  ido- 
latry of  living  to  yourselves  were  a  gross  contempt 
of  his  authority.  When  "  the  heavens  shall  be 
rolled  together  as  a  scroll"  "  and  the  elements  shall 
melt  with  fervent  heat,"  then  you  will  see  the  ma- 
jesty of  that  God  against  whom  you  dared  to  rebel. 
When  the  Son  of  God  shall  descend  with  his  innu- 
merable retinue,  and  arraign  three  worlds  before  his 
bar,  and  the  destiny  of  all  creatures  shall  tremble 
on  his  lips ;  then  will  you  see  the  dignity  of  him 
who  descended  to  the  manger  and  the  sepulchre 
for  you :  then  will  you  see  the  infinite  evil  which 
your  sins  wrought  on  Calvary,  and  the  amazing  ex- 
hibition there  made  of  their  horrid  deformity. 
When  "  the  books"  shall  be  "  opened"  which  con- 
tain an  account  of  all  your  talents,  a  record  of  all 
your  sins,  an  explanation  of  all  the  dealings  of  God 
with  you,  a  justification  of  all  his  requirements,  of 
all  his  dispensations ; — the  books,  in  short,  which 
shall  make  a  full  "  revelation  of  the  righteous  judg- 
ment of  God;"  then  will  you  see  that  you  have 
sinned  against  a  God  of  infinite  rectitude  as  well  as. 
infinite  majesty,  that  your  sins  were  unspeakably 
more  numerous,  as  well  as  more  aggravated,  than 
you  ever  supposed.  When  eternity  shall  be  laid 
open  to  your  view,  in  all  the  glories  of  heaven  and 
in  all  the  horrors  of  hell ;  when,  looking  through 
the  universe,  you  shall  see  the  infinite  and  eternal 

Vol.  I.  68 


458  WHAT   WILT    THOU    SAY 

interests  which  the  law  of  God  was  appointed  to 
protect,  and  against  which  your  sins  have  waged 
an  eternal  war ;  when  you  shall  thus  see  the  infinite 
malignity  of  sin,  its  raging  hostility  against  the 
whole  creation,  its  deadly  struggle  against  the 
throne,  the  happiness,  the  life  of  God,  against  the 
unspeakable  blessedness  and  glory  of  unnumbered 
minds  then  just  beginijing  their  eternal  progression; 
when  you  shall  thus  see  yourselves  to  be  implacable 
conspirators  against  all  that  is  blessed  and  glorious 
in  the  universe ;  then  will  you  form  a  correct  judg- 
ment of  your  ill  deserts.  Ther^  will  be  no  unbe- 
lief, no  stupidity  then.  All  things  will  be  real, 
amazing,  overwhelming.  No  object  to  divert  atten- 
tion, none  to  excite  false  hopes,  no  chance  to  co- 
ver yourselves  with  hollow  excuses.  Your  minds 
will  be  strung  up  to  the  highest  action;  your 
thoughts  will  dart  through  eternity.  Every  thing 
will  burst  upon  you  marked  with  eternity  and  infi- 
nity. In  every  thing  you  will  have  a  personal  inte- 
rest, deeper  than  the  soul  of  man  can  now  conceive. 
Who  can  describe  the  emotions  of  that  day  ? 

II.  Let  us  now  examine  the  several  pleas  which 
may  be  supposed  to  offer  themselves  to  your 
thoughts. 

Will  you  say  that  you  meant  no  evil,  or  no  evil 
great  enough  to  deserve  eternal  death  ?  But  it  will 
appear  that  your  selfish  heart  followed  your  idols  to 
the  neglect  of  God, — did  not  love  God,  but  was  op- 
posed to  his  holy  character  and  precepts,  and  had 
in  it  a  preparation  to  hate  him  with  all  the  malignity 
of  a  fiend  as  soon  as  your  interest  should  be  suffi- 


WHEN    HE    SHALL    PI/NISH    THEE?  459 

ciently  assailed.  It  will  appear  that  your  unbelief 
gave  the  lie  to  his  word ;  that  your  disingenuous 
heart  refused  to  thank  him  for  all  his  infinite  mer- 
cies ;  that  you  excluded  the  universe  from  your  af- 
fections, and  followed,  as  well  in  your  placid  as  in 
your  turbulent  hours,  wherever  your  own  apparent 
interest  led  the  way ;  that  you  made  yourself  your 
god. 

Will  you  say  that  your  sins  have  done  no  great 
evil,  as  God  was  present  to  prevent  their  effects  ? 
This  goes  to  deny  the  right  of  God  to  punish  any 
sin,  and  sweeps  away  at  once  every  vestige  of  a 
moral  government.  What  sin  is  there  in  the  uni- 
verse which  he  does  not  limit,  and  out  of  which  he 
does  not  educe  good?  And  if  he  makes  "the 
wrath  of  man"  to  "  praise"  him  and  restrains  the 
remainder,  is  he  therefore  deprived  of  the  right  of 
punishing,  when  it  is  partly  by  that  very  punish- 
ment that  "  the  wrath  of  man"  is  made  to  "  praise" 
him  ?  If  an  enemy  discharges  a  pistol  at  your 
breast,  and  opens  an  abscess  which  saves  your  life, 
is  he  the  less  criminal  on  that  account  ?  But  your 
sins  have  wrought  evils  immeasurable.  They  caused 
the  death  of  the  Son  of  God.  They  have  perhaps 
contributed  to  plunge  many  into  hell. 

Will  you  say  that  you  sinned  but  a  little  while, 
and  that  there  is  no  proportion  between  temporary 
transgression  and  eternal  punishment?  Tell  me 
another  thing.  How  long  must  a  man  commit  mur- 
der, to  deserve  to  lose  forever  his  natural  life? 
Cannot  a  person  entail  on  others  lasting  misery  by 
a  momentary  act  ?    By  the  midnight  torch  can  he 


460  WHAT    WILT    THOU    SAY 

not  in  one  hour  cast  a  family  naked  upon  the  world 
for  life  ?  And  if  the  wickedness  of  an  hour  can  fix 
lasting  misery,  on  whom  should  that  misery  fall  ra- 
ther than  on  the  culprit  himself?  Sin  has  appHed 
its  torch  to  the  kingdom  and  throne  of  God,  and 
sought  to  destroy  in  one  hour  an  infinite  and  end- 
less good :  and  shall  its  punishment  be  limited  by 
the  time  taken  up  in  sinning  ?  or  shall  it  be  mea- 
sured by  the  duration  of  the  good  sought  to  be  de- 
stroyed ? 

Will  you  say  that  you  sinned  in  a  finite  nature, 
and  cannot  deserve  an  infinite  punishment?  But 
you  sinned  against  an  infinite  God :  you  sought  to 
destroy  an  infinite  good.  And  while  your  punish- 
ment, in  every  stage  of  it,  is  finite  in  degree,  to 
comport  with  your  finite  nature,  it  ought  to  be  infi- 
nite in  duration,  to  comport  with  the  dignity  of  the 
Being  and  the  worth  of  the  good  you  sought  to  de- 
stroy. 

Will  you  plead  that  you  were  no  worse  than 
others  ?  And  what  of  that  ?  Can  the  rebellion  of 
others  justify  yours  ?  Did  God  allow  you  to  go  with 
the  multitude  to  do  evil  ?  Did  not  his  law  insulate 
you  and  bind  its  authority  upon  you  as  an  indi- 
vidual ?  The  obligation  was  not  a  company  con- 
cern ;  and  the  failure  of  others  ought  not  to  have 
produced  a  failure  in  you.  What  is  Judas  the  bet- 
ter for  the  sin  of  Cain  or  of  Satan  ? 

Will  you  say  that  you  were  beset  with  strong 
temptations  ?  But  the  temptations  were  purposely 
appointed  for  the  trial  of  your  obedience.  They 
were  an  experiment  to  test  the  temper  of  your  heart. 


WHEN    HE    SHALL    PUNISH    THEE?  461 

Without  a  temptation  it  could  not  have  appeared  by 
any  outward  act  whether  you  loved  God  or  idols 
most.  Temptations  did  not  make  your  heart  what 
it  was;  they  only  brought  it  out  to  view.  Had 
your  heart  been  right  with  God,  they  would  have 
made  no  more  impression  upon  it  than  they  did 
upon  our  Saviour  in  the  wilderness.  Your  own  de- 
pravity gave  them  all  their  power. 

Will  you  say,  in  vindication  of  your  errors  of 
doctrine,  that  others,  wiser  than  you,  betrayed  you 
into  them  ?  But  what  right  had  you  to  believe  fal- 
lible men  when  you  had  the  word  of  God  in  your 
hands  ?  In  whom  did  God  command  you  to  trust, 
in  himself  or  in  blinded  worms  ?  But  you  say,  they 
interpreted  Scripture  for  you  and  made  you  think 
that  their  errors  were  supported  by  the  Bible.  Aye, 
had  your  heart  been  in  love  with  truth,  that  truth 
lay  so  plain  on  the  sacred  page,  that,  with  diligent 
attention  to  the  Scriptures,  it  could  not  have  been 
mistaken  under  any  disguise. 

Will  you  plead  that  you  had  many  good  desires 
and  did  many  good  actions  ?  And  what  of  that  / 
Will  the  good  actions  of  a  murderer  exempt  him 
from  execution  ?  Will  the  payment  of  a  new  debt 
extinguish  the  old  score  ?  Was  there  any  thing 
more  than  was  due  for  the  time  being  in  any  of 
your  good  desires  or  works  ?  But  what  if  it  shall 
appear  that  in  God's  account  you  never  had  a  good 
desire  nor  performed  a  good  action  ?  What  if  it 
shall  appear  that  all  your  desires  were  selfish,  or  at 
best  the  motions  of  natural  and  neutral  affections, 
and  that  all  your  actions  had  no  higher  character, 


462  WHAT    WILT    THOU    SAY 

being  prompted  by  no  higher  motives  ?  What  if  it 
shall  appear  that  your  "plowing"  was  "sin,"  and 
that  your  very  "  sacrifices"  were  "  an  abomination 
to  the  Lord  ?"  And  all  this  will  appear  against 
every  unregenerate  man. 

Will  you  say  that  you  did  not  know  God?  But 
"  the  heavens "  declared  "  the  glory  of  God,  and 
the  firmament "  showed  "  his  handy  work."  God 
stood  expressed  before  you  in  all  his  works,  but 
more  gloriously  in  his  word.  Why  then  did  you  not 
know  him  ?  Because  you  believed  not,  and  "  the 
god  of  this  world  "  had  "blinded"  your  "minds." 
But  did  you  never  read  that  "  he  that  believeth  not 
shall  be  damned  ?" 

Will  you  say  that  the  Holy  Spirit  never  strove 
with  you  ?  What  then  made  you  so  often  solemn 
in  your  childhood  ?  What  forced  you  into  the  se- 
cret corner  to  pray?  What,  in  maturer  years, 
pressed  you  with  eternal  realities  when  you  stood 
by  the  grave  of  a  departed  friend,  or  sat  under  a 
soul-searching  sermon  ?  Was  it  less  the  Spirit  of 
God  because  he  wrought  by  means  ?  By  means  he 
generally  works.  Ah,  had  you  listened  to  his  voice, 
had  you  cherished  his  suggestions,  you  would  not 
have  been  in  this  condition  now. 

Will  you  say  that  christians  and  ministers  did  not 
warn  you  ?  Say  not  that  again.  We  are  witnesses 
that  they  have  often  wept  over  you  and  pleaded  in 
your  ears  with  a  bleeding  heart :  but  nothing  could 
move  the  dead.  You  know  not  how  many  tears  they 
have  shed  for  you  in  secret.  But  you  would  nei- 
ther weep  nor  hear.     O  if  they  could  have  prevail- 


WHEN    HE    SHALL    PUNISH   THEE?  463 

ed,  how  eagerly  would  they  have  snatched  you 
from  destruction.  But  they  could  not  prevail,  and 
you  have  come  to  this. 

Will  you  come  out  at  last  and  boldly  charge  the 
blame  upon  God  ?  Will  you  say  that  you  received 
your  evil  nature  from  him, — that  he  gave  you  pas- 
sions and  appetites  which  betrayed  you  ?  Here  I 
cannot  hold  my  peace.  Is  infinite  rectitude  to  be 
thus  assailed  ?  All  as  false  as  perdition.  "  This 
only  have  I  found,  that  God  hath  made  man  up- 
right, but  they  have  sought  out  many  inventions." 
In  his  great  bounty  he  gave  you  appetites,  that  you 
might  relish  creature  good.  But  did  the  power  of 
relishing  bind  you  to  turn  the  creatures  into  idols  ? 
This  was  because  you  loved  not  God.  Passions  he 
gave  you,  but  not  such  passions  as  would  lead  you 
astray.  These  sprung  up  from  the  selfishness  of 
your  hearts.  Supreme  regard  to  your  own  gratifi- 
cation changed  every  relish  into  an  ungovernable 
appetite, — every  desire  into  a  domineering  passion, 
— every  thing  loved  into  an  idol.  Whatever  in 
your  nature  was  more  infirm  than  creatures  neces- 
sarily possess,  grew  out  of  that  supreme  self-love. 
That,  and  not  God,  was  the  cause  of  all :  and  for 
that  you  alone  were  to  blame. 

Will  you  plead  that  you  could  not  love  God,  that 
you  could  not  repent  and  believe,  that  you  could 
not  change  your  own  heart  ?  All  this  is  saying  that 
you  had  a  heart  so  desperately  wicked  that  it  would 
yield  to  no  motives.  But  in  such  a  temper  lay 
your  whole  guilt.  It  could  lie  no  where  else.  Your 
words  and  actions  were  no  further  sinful  than  as 


464  WHAT    WILT    THOU   SAY 

they  were  dictated  by  such  a  heart.  Separate  from 
the  heart  they  had  no  moral  nature.  If  the  wick- 
edness of  your  heart  is  excused,  all  sin  is  excused. 
If  this  is  not  worthy  of  punishment,  nothing  is  wor- 
thy. If  this  is  not  an  evil  deserving  of  God's  dis- 
pleasure, there  is  no  moral  evil,  there  can  be  none, 
and  no  creature  can  possibly  be  formed  capable  of 
sinning.  If  then  God  may  not  punish  you  for  the 
evil  temper  of  your  heart,  he  can  no  longer  exer- 
cise a  moral  government. 

Will  you  say  that  you  were  excluded  by  God's 
foreknowledge  and  decree  ?  But  pray,  if  God  fore- 
saw that  you  would  reject  the  Gospel,  how  did  that 
compel  you  to  reject  the  Gospel  ?  He  foresaw  that 
you  would  do  it  freely  and  of  your  own  accord,  and 
you  did  it  as  freely  as  though  it  had  not  been  fore- 
known. And  as  to  a  decree,  he  never  decreed  to 
compel  you  to  reject  the  Gospel ;  he  only  decreed 
to  let  you  alone.  And  if  he  may  not  punish  those 
whose  wickedness  he  foresaw,  and  whom  he  deter- 
mined to  leave  to  themselves,  he  must  either  cease 
to  foreknow  or  foredetermine,  and  thus  cease  to  be 
God,  or  renounce  all  right  to  punish,  and  thus  give 
up  his  moral  government. 

Will  you  say.  It  is  hard  for  a  creature  to  be 
brought  into  existence  without  his  own  consent,  and 
then  be  made  eternally  miserable  ?  "  Nay  but,  O 
man,  who  art  thou  that  repliest  against  God  ?  Shall 
the  thing  formed  say  to  him  that  formed  it,  Why 
hast  thou  made  me  thus  ?"  If  God  may  not  create 
intelligent  beings  witJiout  their  consent,  he  may  not 
create  them  at  all.     And  if  he  may  not  punish  the 


WHEN   HE    SHALL    PUNISH    THEE?  465 

wicked  after  he  has  created  them,  he  may  not  exer- 
cise a  moral  government.  All  those  pleas  which  go 
to  deny  the  right  of  God  to  maintain  a  moral  go- 
vernment over  his  creation,  must  be  false,  pre- 
sumptuous, and  at  open  war  with  him. 

Will  you  say,  Why  did  he  suffer  me  to  sin  ?  But 
was  God  obliged  to  fix  and  proclaim  the  principle 
that  no  creature  should  ever  be  suffered  to  sin  ? 
Had  there  been  no  sin  there  could  have  been  no 
punishment ;  and  if  no  punishment,  the  penalty  of 
the  law  could  never  have  been  executed.  And  if 
God  had  given  out  that  the  penalty  of  the  law  was 
never  to  be  executed,  the  penalty  would  have  been 
annihilated  and  the  law  turned  into  mere  advice, 
and  the  whole  machinery  of  a  moral  government 
would  have  been  dissolved.  Or  take  the  subject  in 
another  view.  Was  God  obliged  to  forego  all  the 
illustrations  of  his  character,  and  all  the  increased 
happiness  of  the  universe,  which  have  resulted  from 
the  existence  of  sin  ?  Had  not  the  great  Proprie- 
tor of  all  things  the  best  right  to  determine  how  far 
to  restrain  and  how  far  to  leave  his  own  creatures  ? 
And  could  not  infinite  ivisdom  judge  as  well  as  you  ? 
"  Nay  but,  O  man,  who  art  thou  that  rcpliest  against 
God  ?" 

Will  you  say  that  there  is  no  need  of  so  much 
severity ;  that  God  could  have  made  the  universe 
happy  without  your  destruction?  And  have  you 
an  eye  that  can  look  through  eternity  and  infinity 
and  judge  better  than  God  ?  Can  you  teach  him 
what  is  necessary  for  the  public  good  ?  He  has  set- 
tled it,  with  all  his  infinite  wisdom  and  benevolence, 

Vol.1.  5  9 


466  WHAT   WILL    THOU   SAY 

that  your  destruction  was  necessary  to  the  general 
happiness.  Until  you  become  wiser  than  God,  and 
have  detected  him  in  a  mistake,  never  use  that  plea 
again. 

Abandoning  all  these  horrible  charges,  will  you 
at  last  cast  yourselves  down  and  say,  /  cannot  hear 
it  ?  Ah,  you  should  have  thought  of  this  in  season, 
when  you  were  going  on  unconcerned  in  sin,  and 
turning  a  deaf  ear  to  all  the  warnings  and  entrea- 
ties of  God ;  when  all  heaven  and  earth  could  not 
rouse  you  to  a  serious  thought.  Poor  soul,  I  know 
you  cannot  bear  it :  and  why  did  you  not  think  of 
this  before  ?  But  if  you  cannot  bear  it,  neither  can 
God  bear  to  give  up  the  order  of  the  universe  for 
you.  He  once  pitied  you  and  labored  to  save  you, 
by  means  which  have  filled  all  heaven  with  astonish- 
ment and  the  Church  on  earth  with  tears.  But  now 
*'  he  that  made"  you  "  will  not  have  mercy  on"  you, 
"  and  he  that  formed"  you  "  will  show"  you  "  no 
favor." 

What  more  will  you  say  ?  I  insist  again  on  an 
unwavering  answer.  Come,  bring  up  your  mind  to 
a  point  and  tell  me.  What  more  will  you  say  ?  Ah, 
you  will  be  "speechless."  "Every  mouth"  will 
"  be  stopped,  and  all  the  world "  will  "  become 
guilty  before  God."  You  will  clearly  see  that  you 
deserve  nothing  better  than  eternal  fire  and  everlast- 
ing contempt.  And  when  you  see  things  in  this 
light,  what  mountains  of  guilt  will  crush  you  down. 
If  you  had  committed  murder  and  felt  that  you  de- 
served to  die,  what  an  amazing  pressure  of  guilt 
would  sink  you  to  the  earth.    What  then  when  you 


WHEN   HE   SHALL    PUNISH   THEE?  467 

feel  in  your  inmost  soul  that  you  deserve  everlast- 
ing burnings  ?  Ah,  it  will  be  an  awful  day.  No 
language  nor  imagination  can  reach  the  tremendous 
reality.  Why  will  you  not  think  of  it  in  season  ? 
Why  will  you  not  fall  down  at  the  feet  of  Christ 
and  cast  your  poor,  sinking  souls  on  him?  On 
him  was  laid  the  weight  of  all  your  guilt,  if  you 
will  but  flee  to  him  with  a  bleeding  and  believing 
heart.  O  come.  "  Why  t^zV/"  you  "  die?"  Why 
need  you  die  ?  There  is  plenty  of  "  balm  in  Gi- 
lead,"  "  without  money  and  without  price."  Why 
will  you  not  make  it  your  own?  After  all  the  ter- 
rible views  we  have  taken,  there  is  no  need  that  you 
should  perish.  You  are  reprieved  for  a  season  that 
a  full  and  free  offer  of  pardon  might  be  made  you. 
It  is  most  sincerely  made.  With  all  your  tremen- 
dous guilt,  you  shall  be  as  welcome  to  mercy  as  the 
least  sinner  on  earth.  There  is  no  malice  in  God. 
There  was  pity  enough  in  him  to  send  his  only  be- 
gotten Son  to  die  for  you.  He  is  in  earnest  in  mak- 
ing you  the  offer.  It  is  not  merely  made  to  others 
in  your  hearing:  he  means  you.  There  is  nothing 
in  the  way  of  his  receiving  you, — nothing  in  the 
law,  nothing  in  your  guilt, — if  you  will  only  return. 
Come,  for  "  all  things  are  ready."  God  is  ready; 
Christ  is  ready ;  the  Holy  Ghost  is  ready.  Angels, 
and  "  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,"  stand 
ready  to  catch  the  joy  and  circulate  it  through  all 
heaven.     Are  you  ready  ?     O  come. 


SERMON  XIIL 


THE  STRAIT  GATE. 


Luke,  xm.  24. 


Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate;  for  many,  I  say  unto  you,  shall  seek 
to  enter  in  and  shall  not  be  able. 

It  is  a  matter  of  unspeakable  joy  that  while  devils 
are  left  without  hope,  a  way  is  opened  for  self- 
ruined  man  to  pass  from  the  deepest  pollution  to 
spotless  purity, — from  the  lowest  depths  of  guilt 
and  wretchedness  to  everlasting  happiness  and  glory. 
It  becomes  us  with  gratitude  to  raise  our  heads  from 
pillows  of  despair  wet  with  tears,  to  inquire  after 
this  glorious  way  of  escape.  It  is  said  that  Christ 
is  "  the  way, — the  truth,  and  the  life ;"  but  when, 
we  read  that  "  strait  is  the  gate  and  narrow  is  the 
way,"  this  is  not  to  be  understood  of  the  Author 
of  salvation,  but  of  the  conditions  of  life.  Christ 
is  not  a  narrow  way,  but  wide  enough  for  a  whole 
world  to  go  abreast.  But  the  course  of  holiness, 
self-denial,  and  conflict,  through  which  we  must 


470  THE    STRAIT    GATE. 

pass,  this  is  a  strait  and  narrow  way.  The  gate 
intended  is  not  regeneration,  but  the  whole  course 
of  labor  and  watchfulness  through  which  we  must 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

In  regard  to  the  term  strait,  there  are  two  Eng- 
lish words  thus  pronounced,  though  very  different 
in  their  form  and  signification.  One  is  opposed  to 
crooked;  the  other,  which  is  here  used,  signifies 
narrow  and  difficult,  which  is  also  the  meaning  of 
the  Greek  word  employed  in  the  passage.  The 
text  therefore  may  be  paraphrased  thus :  Strive,  (or 
agonize,  as  the  original  word  imports,)  to  enter  in 
at  the  narrow  and  difficult  gate ;  for  many  shall 
seek  to  enter  in  and  shall  not  be  able. 

My  first  inquiry  is.  In  what  respects  is  the  way 
to  heaven  narrow  and  difficult  ?  It  it  dijicult  as  it 
is  obstructed  by  all  the  corruptions  of  the  heart  and 
all  the  appetites  of  the  flesh.  Every  step  is  in  di- 
rect opposition  to  the  whole  current  of  depraved 
nature.  It  is  difficult  as  it  is  overspread  with  briers 
and  thorns.  "  Through  much  tribulation"  we  must 
"enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God."  Indwelling 
sin  causes  much  trouble,  and  gives  frequent  occa- 
sion for  the  application  of  a  Father's  rod.  It  is 
difficult  as  it  is  beset  with  spiritual  foes.  A  world 
full  of  temptations,  and  two  worlds  full  of  tempters, 
do  all  they  can  to  render  the  way  impassable. 

It  is  narrow  as  regards  the  matter  of  duty.  The 
world  are  more  loose  in  their  ideas  of  holy-living, 
and  contemn  as  superstitious  that  precision  which 
christians  observe.  In  numberless  instances  they 
think  that  if  they  believe  or  act  so  and  so  it  is  well, 


THE   STRAIT    GATE.  471 

and  if  in  a  contrary  way  it  is  no  matter.  But  the 
Scriptures  represent  the  course  of  duty  as  a  narrow 
line  between  two  extremes,  the  least  variation  from 
which  brings  one  upon  forbidden  ground.  Take 
for  instance  the  following  examples.  On  the  nar- 
row line  lies  a  righteous  liberality  to  the  poor;  near 
this  on  one  side  lies  unfeeling  parsimony,  and  on 
the  other,  a  kind  of  charitable  dissipation.  On  the 
narrow  line  lies  a  holy  economy  in  the  management 
of  our  temporal  affairs ;  near  this  on  one  side  lies 
indolent  neglect,  and  on  the  other,  that  "  covetous- 
ness  which  is  idolatry."  On  the  narrow  line  lies  a 
virtuous  wish  to  live  peaceably  with  all  men  ;  near 
this  on  one  side  lies  a  proud  independent  spirit 
which  is  too  willing  to  give  offence,  and  on  the 
other,  that  time  serving  temper  which  loves  "  the 
praise  of  man  more  than  the  praise  of  God."  A 
modest  deference  for  the  opinions  of  superiors  is 
the  narrow  line  ;  the  extremes  are,  self-willed  as- 
surance on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other,  that 
implicit  reliance  on  others  which  shuns  the  labor  of 
searching  and  deciding  for  one's  self.  There  is  a 
Gospel  charity  which,  in  regard  to  the  character  of 
others,  "hopeth  all  things;"  the  extremes  are,  a 
censorious  spirit  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other, 
that  licentious  liberality  which  equally  embraces 
infidels  and  believers.  A  holy  fear  of  God  is  on 
the  narrow  line  ;  on  one  side  of  which  lies  a  disgust- 
ing familiarity,  and  on  the  other,  a  slavish  dread. 
A  proper  dependance  on  the  mediation  of  Christ  is 
the  narrow  line ;  the  extremes  arc,  on  the  one  hand, 
a  dependance  on  works,  and  on  the  other,  that  ex- 


472  THE    STRAIT    GATE. 

elusive  dependance  on  Christ  which  dispenses  with 
personal  holiness.  On  the  narrow  line  lies  a  suita- 
ble dependance  on  the  divine  Spirit  for  light  and 
life ;  near  this,  on  one  side,  lies  a  proud  reliance 
on  our  own  powers,  and  on  the  other,  that  exclu- 
sive dependance  on  the  Spirit  which  sets  aside  the 
use  of  our  own  faculties.  Now  in  all  these  and 
many  other  cases,  the  line  of  duty  between  the  two 
extremes  is  very  narrow,  and  the  least  variation 
from  it  is  sin. 

I  do  not  say  that  the  way  to  heaven  is  as  narrow 
as  the  line  of  duty.  Wo  to  us  if  it  were.  But  in 
comparison  with  the  highway  of  open  sin,  and  even 
with  the  latitude  which  many  professed  christians 
allow,  it  is  very  narrow.  Without  an  habitual  walk 
in  this  narrow  way  there  is  no  salvation. 

The  way  is  narrow  in  another  respect.  Fatal 
mistakes  are  incessantly  made  by  a  seemingly  small 
variation  from  the  true  line.  There  is  but  one  nar- 
row path  between  the  barren  heaths  of  formality 
and  the  wild  precipices  of  enthusiasm.  Close  on  one 
side  lies  the  speculative  religion  of  the  formal  hy- 
pocrite, and  as  close  on  the  other,  the  warm  hypo- 
crisy of  the  self-inflated  enthusiast.  Some  defect 
at  bottom,  which  is  so  subtle  as  to  be  out  of  sight, 
may  turn  the  whole  of  one's  religion  into  hypo- 
crisy ;  and  then,  though  it  lies  so  near  to  true  reli- 
gion that  no  mortal  eye  can  distinguish  between 
them,  it  is  worse  than  nothing. 

After  this  view  of  the  narrowness  and  difficulties 
of  the  way,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  so 
many  seek  to  enter  in  and  are  not  able.     Yet  this 


THE    STRAIT    GATE.  473 

warning  is  very  seasonable  to  us  whose  eternal  all 
depends  on  finding  the  right  way  to  life. 

It  deeply  concerns  us  to  know  why  so  many  seek 
to  enter  in  and  are  not  able.  This  is  my  second 
inquiry.  The  difficulties  of  the  way,  already  men- 
tioned, are  indeed  so  many  reasons  ;  but  there  arc 
others  which  belong  to  the  seekers  themselves. 

The  first  of  these  is  ignorance  of  the  qualifica- 
tions required.  Some  think  it  enough  to  be  born 
in  a  Gospel  land,  and  to  have  the  general  name  of 
Christians  in  distinction  from  Mahometans,  Jews, 
and  pagans.  Others,  a  little  above  this,  think  it 
sufficient  to  be  baptised  and  to  exercise  a  specula- 
tive faith.  Others,  not  satisfied  with  this,  imagine 
that  if  outward  morality  be  added  it  is  enough. 
Others,  not  content  even  with  this,  suppose  that  a 
profession  of  religion  and  a  general  attendance  on 
means  will  supply  the  defect.  Others  know  not 
what  doctrines  they  ought  to  believe,  and  possess- 
ing a  wrong  creed,  imagine  that  their  salvation  de- 
pends on  propagating  what  will  at  last  appear  to 
have  been  "  damnable  heresies." 

I  say  then,  it  is  not  enough  to  be  born  and  brought 
up  in  a  Gospel  land.  This  distinction  had  the  Jews, 
who,  according  to  our  context,  will  another  day 
urge  that  they  have  eaten  and  drunken  in  Christ's 
presence  and  that  he  has  taught  in  their  streets.  It 
is  not  enough  to  be  born  of  pious  parents  and  to  be 
dedicated  by  them  in  baptism.  The  Jews  gloried 
in  having  Abraham  for  their  father,  and  seem  to 
have  calculated  on  some  favor  from  him  at  the  last 
day  ;  and  it  was  to  destroy  this  confidence  that  the 

Vol.  I.  60 


474  THE    STRAIT    GATE. 

rich  man  was  represented  as  crying  to  Abraham  in 
his  extremities  and  crying  in  vain.  And  it  was  to 
convince  them  that  it  was  not  enough  to  be  the 
children  of  the  circumcision,  that  our  Saviour  de- 
clared in  the  context,  "  There  shall  be  weeping  and 
gnashing  of  teeth  when  ye  shall  see  Abraham  and 
Isaac  and  Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  you 
yourselves  thrust  out."  Yes,  many  children  in  that 
day  will  see  their  pious  parents  forever  separated 
from  them,  and  feasting  at  the  immortal  banquet 
from  which  they  are  eternally  excluded. 

It  is  not  enough  to  exercise  a  speculative  faith. 
"Devils — believe  and  tremble."  It  is  not  enough 
to  attend  on  the  means  of  grace.  It  was  said  of 
the  wicked  Jews,  "They  seek  me  daily  and  de- 
light to  know  my  ways,  as  a  nation  that  did  righte- 
ousness and  forsook  not  the  ordinance  of  their 
God ;  they  ask  of  me  the  ordinances  of  justice ; 
they  take  delight  in  approaching  to  God."  It  is 
not  enough,  like  the  young  man  in  the  Gospel,  to 
cleanse  the  outside  of  the  cup  and  platter.  Such 
decent  people,  who  put  morahty  in  the  room  both 
of  Christ  and  of  the  new  birth,  will  as  certainly  fail 
as  infidels  themselves. 

It  is  not  enough  to  be  awakened  and  to  seek  sal- 
vation with  a  selfish  heart.  Some  who  are  thus 
think  that  now  they  are  the  objects  of  God's  special 
regard.  But  doubtless  there  are  many  now  in  hell 
who  were  as  much  awakened  and  sought  as  ear- 
nestly as  they.  It  is  not  enough  to  obtain  a  hope, 
and  even  to  be  very  confident  of  one's  good  estate. 
None  had  greater  confidence  than  the  self-righte- 


THE    STRAIT    GATE.  476 

ous  Jews.  And  it  is  more  than  possible  that  some 
now  present  will  hold  fast  their  confidence  until 
and  through  a  dying  hour,  and  then,  when  flushed 
with  high  hopes  of  entering  the  heavenly  gates, 
will  suddenly  find  themselves  sinking  in  everlasting 
burnings.  It  is  not  enough  to  enter  into  covenant 
with  God  and  to  belong  to  the  visible  Church. 
This  distinction  had  the  Jews,  and  they  reckoned 
on  it  as  that  which  rendered  them  the  peculiar  fa- 
vorites of  heaven.  Yet  our  Saviour  forewarned 
them  that  many  would  come  "  from  the  east  and 
from  the  west, — from  the  north  and  from  the  south, 
and — sit  down  in  the  kingdom  of  God,"  while  "  the 
children  of  the  kingdom"  would  "  be  cast  out." 
And  there  may  be  some  present  who  think  it  enough 
to  belong  to  the  visible  Church  and  to  preserve  a 
fair  exterior.  But  do  they  not  know  that  tares  grow 
in  every  field  ?  And  none  are  more  likely  to  be  of 
this  description  than  those  who  lay  so  much  stress 
on  a  mere  profession. 

Thus  far  in  regard  to  mistaken  notions  of  the 
qualifications  for  heaven.  But  there  is  a  second 
class  of  reasons  why  so  many  seek  to  enter  in  and 
are  not  able.  There  are  those  whose  speculative 
opinions  are  correct ;  who  believe  in  the  necessity 
of  regeneration ;  who  are  themselves  awakened,  ~ 
and  tremble  like  Felix,  and  weep  like  Esau,  and 
make  long  and  frequent  prayers  like  the  Jews,  and 
reform  their  lives  hke  Simon  Magus,  and  like  the 
young  man  in  the  Gospel  are  conscientious  in  their 
general  conduct ;  and  yet  are  of  the  number  of  those 
who  seek  to  enter  in  and  are  not  able.     What  can 


476 


THE    STRAIT    GATE. 


be  the  cause  of  preventing  these,  it  is  of  the  last 
importance  for  us  to  know.  I  say  then,  that  their 
failure  is  not  to  be  ascribed  to  a  mere  want  of  earnest- 
ness. Although  in  general  the  unregenerate  exhibit 
a  criminal  indifference  to  their  salvation,  which, 
among  other  causes,  prevents  any  successful  effort ; 
although  it  is  true  in  all  cases  that  "  the  kingdom 
of  heaven"  is  taken  by  "violence;"  yet  it  is  not 
true  that  the  carelessness  of  sinners  is  in  such  a 
sense  the  only  cause  of  their  failure,  that  they 
would  certainly  succeed  if  it  were  removed.  There 
must  be  an  alteration  not  so  much  in  the  degree  as 
in  the  nature  of  their  violence.  There  are  two  ra- 
dical defects  attending  all  their  strivings ;  one,  that 
they  do  not  strive  after  proper  objects  ;  the  other, 
that  they  do  not  seek  their  own  object  in  a  proper 
way. 

The  first  defect  is  that  they  do  not  strive  after 
proper  objects.  That  which  they  supremely  seek 
is  their  own  happiness, — a  happiness  entirely  sepa- 
rate from  the  kingdom  of  God  and  from  all  benevo- 
lent enjoyment.     To  be  more  particular, 

(1.)  They  do  not  strive  wdth  direct  desires  to  es- 
cape that  in  which  the  curse  of  the  law  essentially 
consists,  namely,  hanisliment  from  God,  Possess- 
ing a  general  notion  that  hell  is  a  place  of  misery, 
they  would  gladly  avoid  that :  but  the  thought  of 
being  banished  from  God,  if  that  were  all,  would 
give  them  but  little  trouble.  With  the  same  heart 
they  have  been  content  to  live  without  him  for  many 
years ;  and  if  they  were  sure  that  no  conscience 
would  disturb  them,  and  that  no  other  punishment 


THE    STRAIT    GATE.  477 

would  assail  them,  they  would  be  content  to  live 
without  him  to  eternity.     Therefore, 

(2.)  They  do  not  seek  after  a  proper  kind  of 
happiness.  Could  they  obtain  an  eternal  residence 
in  a  place  where  they  might  forever  revel  in  carnal 
enjoyments,  they  would  have  no  desire  after  the 
christian's  heaven. 

(3.)  They  do  not  strive  with  direct  desires  after 
holiness.  They  desire  holiness  just  as  a  sick  man 
desires  a  disagreeable  potion  needful  to  the  resto- 
ration of  his  health.  Did  they  believe  that  they 
could  be  as  happy  without  it  as  with  it,  they  would 
no  longer  desire  it. 

(4.)  They  have  no  regard  for  the  glory  of  God, 
and  care  not  what  becomes  of  him  or  his  kingdom 
provided  they  can  be  happy.  And  is  the  infinite 
God  obliged  to  regard  them  ?  Therefore  it  is  that 
they  pray  without  being  heard,  and  strive  without 
entering  the  strait  gate. 

The  other  defect  is,  that  they  do  not  seek  their 
own  object  in  a  proper  way. 

(1.)  Not  with  brokenness  of  heart.  They  apply 
to  God  for  infinite  blessings  without  being  truly 
sorry  for  the  injuries  they  have  done  him.  And 
while  all  these  injuries  are  fresh  in  his  memory, 
and  their  impenitence  and  self-justification  are  dis- 
tinct in  his  view,  can  it  be  thought  that  he  will  re- 
gard their  prayers  ?  Is  this  the  manner  of  men  ? 
Would  any  human  being  receive  and  oblige  another 
under  such  circumstances  ?  Would  you  do  it  your- 
self, O  complaining  sinner?  I  know  you  would 
not.     How  just  then  that  you  should  be  treated  as 


478  THE    STRAIT    GATE. 

you  would  treat  others.  Until  therefore  you  repent 
of  your  sins,  not  from  fear  of  punishment,  but  from 
filial  regard  to  him  whom  you  have  offended,  you 
may  forever  seek  in  vain. 

(2.)  They  do  not  strive  with  an  humble  sense  of 
their  own  unworthiness.  As  vile  as  they  have  been, 
and  as  impenitent  as  they  still  remain,  they  do  not 
feel  utterly  unworthy  of  the  blessings  they  ask. 
When  they  have  performed  some  outward  duty  in 
a  poor  wretched  manner, — in  a  manner  that  de- 
serves eternal  rebukes, — they  think  they  have  atoned 
for  all  their  abuses  of  infinite  majesty  and  good- 
ness, and  moreover  have  laid  God  under  obligations, 
— obligations  to  confer,  not  small  favors,  but  the 
infinite  blessing  of  eternal  life.  And  under  pre- 
tence of  asking,  they  come  to  demand  this  as  their 
due,  and  feel  as  though  they  should  be  injured  if 
denied.  And  when  for  a  time  God  withholds,  their 
hearts  rise  against  him  as  a  "  hard  master,"  reap- 
ing where  he  has  not  sown  and  refusing  to  pay  his 
laborers  their  honest  wages.  And  such  presump- 
tion they  call  praying.  But  a  creature  that  deserves 
to  be  trodden  down  into  shame  and  everlasting  con- 
tempt, must  come  down  to  lower  grounds  than  this 
before  he  can  prevail  with  God.  This  leads  me  to 
remark, 

(3.)  That  they  do  not  seek  in  the  name  of  Christ. 
Although  his  name  is  on  their  tongue,  yet  in  their 
heart  they  do  not  approve  of  him  as  the  only  ground 
of  salvation,  nor  do  they  beheve  him  to  be  such, 
but  look  to  their  own  duties  as  the  meritorious 
ground  of  all.     Thus  they  set  aside  the  very  pith 


THE    STRAIT    GATE.  479 

and  marrow  of  the  Gospel.  And  while  thus,  to 
what  purpose  are  all  their  strivings  ?  As  well  might 
devils  attempt  to  break  prison  and  escape,  as  hu- 
man sinners  to  enter  into  life  while  they  reject  the 
only  Saviour  provided  for  men. 

These  are  some  of  the  reasons  why  so  many  seek 
to  enter  in  and  are  not  able :  for  it  must  be  remember- 
ed that  no  one  is  "  crowned"  in  this  contest  "except 
he  strive  lawfully."  The  noting  of  these  defects  will 
enable  us  to  discover  the  true  manner  of  striving. 
Now  awake  to  this.  We  must  seek  proper  objects 
and  seek  them  in  a  right  way.  In  striving  for  happi- 
ness we  must  seek  that  which  consists  in  contemplat- 
ing God  and  the  prosperity  of  his  kingdom.  The 
misery  most  anxiously  shunned  must  be  that  of  ba- 
nishment from  God.  We  must  seek  with  direct 
desires  after  holiness,  and  aim  supremely  at  the 
glory  of  God.  All  this  must  be  done  with  a 
broken  heart, — with  an  humble  sense  of  utter  un- 
worthiness, — with  entire  dependance  on  the  atone- 
ment and  righteousness  of  Christ, — and  with  su- 
preme love  to  God.  We  must  seek  with  earnest- 
ness, with  dilhgence,  by  faithful  attendance  on  all  the 
means  of  gracCj  in  a  course  of  universal  obedience, 
and  with  perseverance  until  death. 

I  will  now  suggest  some  reasons  which  urge  to 
this  course  of  seeking. 

(1.)  It  is  the  express  command  of  Christ.  This 
is  plain  from  the  text,  and  decides  it  to  be  our  in- 
dispensable duty  which  no  plea  of  inability  can  put 
aside.  And  if  we  will  not  obey,  it  unavoidably  re- 
mains for  us  to  reap  the  awful  fruits  of  disobedi- 
ence. 


480  THE    STRAIT    GATE. 

(2.)  From  the  very  constitution  of  things,  with- 
out thus  striving  we  can  never  win  the  prize.  There 
is  nothing  of  any  value  which  we  can  hope  to  ob- 
tain without  striving  for  it.  Though  all  things  come 
from  God,  yet  he  does  not  give  them  in  a  way  to 
set  aside  the  use  of  our  faculties.  Would  you  ob- 
tain science  or  wealth  or  honor,  you  must  acquire 
them  by  exertion.  So  if  you  would  gain  a  know- 
ledge of  God  and  a  victory  over  yourselves,  you 
must  obtain  them  by  holy  exertion. 

(3.)  Another  argument  may  be  drawn  from  the 
value  of  the  prize.  This  is  nothing  less  than  re- 
demption from  eternal  pollution  and  misery,  and 
exaltation  to  the  everlasting  glories  of  heaven; 
compared  with  which  all  that  the  world  holds  out 
to  attract  our  attention  are  but  weeds  and  dirt. 
And  will  rational  beings  wear  out  life  in  toiling  for 
these,  and  madly  neglect  that  which  in  value  ex- 
ceeds all  estimation, — which  in  duration  has  no  end? 

(4.)  "  Many — shall  seek  to  enter  in  and  shall  not 
be  able."  It  was  not  without  reason  that  our  Sa- 
viour urged  the  necessity  of  putting  forth  all  the 
powers  of  the  soul,  from  the  consideration  of  the 
great  difficulties  in  the  way, — difficulties  which 
many  with  all  their  efforts  will  never  be  able  to  sur- 
mount. A  nature  in  league  with  sin,  a  treacherous 
heart,  a  frowning  and  ensnaring  world,  and  a  sub- 
tle devil ;  these  are  difficulties  which  the  strongest 
find  it  hard  to  overcome.  And  "  if  the  righteous 
scarcely"  are  "  saved,"  where  shall  the  stupid,  in- 
active sinner  appear  ?  If  the  difficulties  are  so 
great  that  thousands  who  seek  to  enter  in  are  not 


THE    STRAIT    GATE.  481 

able,  what  will  become  of  those  who  sleep  out  life 
in  carnal  security  ?  If  in  time  of  war,  many  strong 
men,  with  all  their  exertions,  are  crushed  by  the 
rushing  foe,  what  will  become  of  those  who  are 
asleep  on  the  field  of  battle  ?  When  such  difficul- 
ties obstruct  the  way,  what  infatuation  has  seized 
on  those  who,  like  Jonah,  are  slumbering  in  "  the 
sides  of  the  ship."  Hark!  how  the  storms  beat 
and  break  around  you,  and  you  are  fast  asleep  ! 
Arise,  O  sleeper,  and  call  upon  your  God,  that  you 
perish  not  in  the  waves. 

(5.)  It  is  another  reason  for  striving,  that,  not- 
withstanding all  these  difficulties,  they  who  "  strive 
lawfully"  will  certainly  be  "crowned."  In  num- 
berless instances  men  will  strive  earnestly  when  the 
issue  is  very  uncertain,  and  when  the  thing  sought 
is  of  little  value ;  and  will  they  neglect  to  strive 
here,  where  the  strife  will  be  crowned  with  certain 
success,  and  where  success  will  make  them  for 
eternity  ? 

(6.)  Comparatively  speaking,  there  is  nothing 
else  worth  striving  for.  And  indeed  without  a  com- 
parison, no  other  pursuit  but  that  which  leads  to 
immortality  is  worthy  supremely  to  engross  the 
powers  of  a  rational  soul,  or  worthy  to  have  been 
the  object  for  which  that  soul  was  formed.  Such 
a  wonderful  substance  was  never  created  to  exhaust 
itself  in  the  pursuit  of  toys.  In  any  other  respect 
than  as  related  to  eternity,  these  things  are  unwor- 
thy of  its  attention.  And  shall  we  waste  ourselves 
in  pursuit  of  these  vanities  and  neglect  the  heavenly 
prize  ?  No,  my  brethren,  if  we  will  not  strive  for 
Vol.  I.  61 


482  THE    STRAIT    GATE. 

this  there  is  no  further  use  for  our  powers ; — we  have 
nothing  more  to  do  on  earth ; — and  hke  the  worm 
which  winds  itself  in  its  web  when  its  work  is  done 
we  may  as  well  fold  up  our  arms  and  lie  down  and 
die. 

(7.)  Consider,  ye  who  need  such  arguments,  how 
much  God  and  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  have  striven 
for  your  salvation  ;  how  much  the  holy  angels  in 
their  ministrations  to  the  Church ;  how  much  have 
ministers  and  christians.  And  shall  heaven  and 
earth  conspire  to  pluck  you  out  of  the  pit,  and  will 
you  lie  still  and  refuse  to  help  yourselves  ?  Has  all 
this  zeal  been  employed  about  a  worthless  thing 
that  you  are  so  indifferent  about  it  ?  O  man,  that 
hast  an  immortal  soul  within  thee,  why  so  regard- 
less of  thine  eternal  destinies  when  heaven  and 
earth  are  so  solicitous  for  you? 

(8.)  Attend  to  the  awful  consideration  suggested 
in  the  context.  With  a  solemn  accent  our  Saviour 
assured  the  Jews,  that  the  time  would  come  when 
the  gate  of  the  kingdom  would  be  forever  closed ; 
when  they  would  stand  without  and  pray  for  admis- 
sion, but  in  vain ;  when,  with  "  weeping  and  gnash- 
ing of  teeth,"  they  would  see  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  themselves  thrust 
out.  Ah,  who  can  sketch  a  glimpse  of  that  dis- 
tressing scene, — when  the  die  is  cast  once  and  for- 
ever ;  when  the  door  of  the  kingdom  is  shut  and 
there  is  no  more  entering  in  ;  when  sinners  shall 
look  away  through  their  tears  and  behold  their  for- 
mer companions  in  heaven  and  themselves  forever 
thrust  out ;  when  they  shall  see  their  pious  parents 


THE    STRAIT    GATE.  483 

"  afar  off,"  with  an  impassable  gulph  fixed  between 
them,  and  shall  beseech  them  by  all  their  former 
love  to  send  them  one  drop  of  water  to  cool  their 
tongue,  and  shall  find  them  deaf  to  all  their  entrea- 
ties. O  children, — sinners, — old  and  young, — will 
not  this  be  a  most  distressing  hour  ?  Hour,  did  I 
say  ?  a  most  distressing  eternity. 

Are  there  any  present  under  the  calls  of  the  di- 
vine Spirit  ?  You  see  why  you  have  so  long  stri- 
ven in  vain,  and  how  you  may  strive  to  better  pur- 
pose. The  present  is  the  crisis  of  your  existence, 
and  probably  good  and  bad  angels  are  anxiously 
watching  the  issue.  Do  not  calculate  too  confi- 
dently on  a  change  in  your  favor,  and  thus  relapse 
into  stupidity.  Thousands  have  sought  as  earnest- 
ly as  you  to  enter  in  and  have  not  been  able.  Cast 
down  the  weapons  of  your  rebellion  at  once  and 
submit  to  God.  Can  you  bear  the  thought  of  being 
at  last  in  the  condition  which  has  been  described  ? 

It  is  painful  to  disturb  the  ashes  of  the  dead ; — 
but  are  there  not  some  present  who  in  former 
months  or  years  were  awakened  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  but  relapsed  into  stupidity,  and  cannot  now 
be  moved  by  all  that  is  passing  before  their  eyes  ? 
Wretched  men !  you  little  know  how  they  who  un- 
derstand your  case  tremble  for  you,  lest  you  should 
be  of  the  number  of  those  who  sought  to  enter  in 
and  were  not  able.  There  is  reason  to  fear  that 
your  eyes  will  never  more  be  opened.  But  if  they 
are  not  forever  sealed,  open  them  this  once  before 
you  die,  and  behold  the  dangers  among  which  you 
are  sleeping  secure.     Could  you  see  one  who  was 


484  THE    STRAIT    GATE. 

known  to  be  abandoned  of  God,  with  what  feehngs 
would  you  regard  him !  And  yet  how  know  you 
but  this  is  your  condition  ?  Many,  for  resisting  the 
Spirit  as  you  have  done,  have  been  sealed  over  to 
destruction.  But  if  your  fate  is  not  already  fixed, 
it  is  in  imminent  danger  of  soon  becoming  so.  O 
that  one  could  speak  so  that  the  dead  would  hear ; 
"  Awake,  arise,  or  be  forever  fallen." 

One  word  to  professing  christians.  Many  of  the 
visible  church  will  seek  to  enter  in  and  will  not  be 
able.  Many  will  go  down  from  sacraments  and 
confident  hopes  to  everlasting  burnings. 

Let  impenitent  sinners  of  every  description  at- 
tend. I  could  hope  by  this  time  that  you  are  all 
convinced  of  the  importance  of  striving  for  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  first  or  last;  but  when  will  you  begin? 
You  have  often  had  this  conviction,  but  being  dis- 
posed to  delay,  it  has  passed  off"  like  "  the  morning 
cloud  and — early  dew."  Thus  it  has  doubtless 
been  with  thousands  now  in  hell.  Take  care  that 
delay  does  not  prove  your  ruin.  After  all,  this  is 
the  rock  on  which  many  of  you  will  probably  split. 
But  will  not  some,  wiser  than  the  rest,  be  induced 
to  escape  to  day  ?  The  Saviour's  arms  are  yet  ex- 
tended to  receive  you.  The  compassions  of  God 
say,  Come.    O  come,  for  why  will  ye  die  ? 


SERMON  XIV. 


GOSPEL  DESPISERS  PASSED  BY  AND  THE  HEATHEN  TAKEN, 


Mat.  VIII.  11,  12. 


And  I  say  unto  you,  that  many  shall  come  from  the  east  and  west  and 
shall  sit  down  with  Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven ;  but  the  children  of  the  kingdom  shall  be  cast  out  into  outer  darkness  j 
there  shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeta. 

This  was  originally  spoken  with  reference  to  the 
rejection  of  the  Jews,  (who  by  profession  and  dedica- 
tion had  constituted  the  visible  kingdom  of  God,)  and 
the  calling  of  the  Gentiles.  The  occasion  was  this. 
When  Jesus,  at  a  certain  time,  entered  into  Ca- 
pernaum, a  centurion,  (a  Roman  officer  who  com- 
manded a  band  of  a  hundred  soldiers,)  who  was 
himself  a  Gentile,  came  to  him  and  entreated  him 
to  heal  his  servant.  And  when  Jesus  promised  to 
go  with  him  the  centurion  replied,  "  Lord,  I  am 
not  worthy  that  thou  shouldst  come  under  my  roof, 
but  speak  the  word  only  and  my  servant  shall  be 
healed  ;"  and  subjoined  what  imported  that  diseases 


486  GOSPEL  DESPISERS  PASSED  BY 

were  Christ's  servants  to  go  at  his  command  and  to 
come  at  his  bidding.  When  Jesus  heard  this  "  he 
marvelled,  and  said  to  them  that  followed,  verily  I 
say  unto  you,  I  have  not  found  so  great  faith,  no 
not  in  Israel."  There  is  a  stronger  confidence  in 
me  in  this  Gentile  centurion,  than  I  have  found  in 
the  whole  Jewish  nation.  These  frequent  instances 
of  Gentile  faith  were  tokens  that  the  time  was  ap- 
proaching when  the  Gospel  and  the  sanctifying  Spi- 
rit would  be  extended  to  the  heathen.  And  the  oc- 
currence of  such  a  remarkable  instance  was  a  fit 
occasion,  not  only  to  allude  to  that  approaching 
event,  but  to  introduce  another  which  in  the  pur- 
pose of  God  was  coupled  with  it,  to  wit,  the  rejec- 
tion of  the  Jews.  As  our  Saviour  said  to  the  chief 
priests  and  elders  on  another  occasion,  "  The  king- 
dom of  God  shall  be  taken  from  you  and  given  to 
a  nation  bringing  forth  the  fruits  thereof;"  so  here 
"  I  say  unto  you  that  many  shall  come  from  the  east 
and  west  and  shall  sit  down  with  Abraham  and  Isaac 
and  Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  but  the  child- 
ren of  the  kingdom  shall  be  cast  out  into  outer 
darkness :  there  shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of 
teeth." 

The  time  has  come  when  the  heathen,  after  being 
mostly  neglected  for  fifteen  hundred  years,  seem 
about  to  be  called  in.  And  is  it  not  to  be  feared 
that,  as  it  happened  in  the  beginning  of  the  Gospel, 
the  kingdom  of  God,  when  carried  to  the  heathen, 
will  be  taken  from  many  who  have  long  abused  it, — 
from  many  of  our  baptised  youth  who  are  emphati- 
cally the  children  of  the  kingdom  ?   This  is  a  question 


AND  THE  HEATHEN  TAKEN.  487 

which  ought  to  awaken  a  solemn  concern  in  those 
who  have  long  rejected  the  Gospel. 

It  has  been  a  principle  of  the  divine  administra- 
tion to  take  from  men  the  Gospel  which  they  have 
long  and  egregiously  abused.  This  was  exemplified 
in  the  remarkable  instance  to  which  our  text  alludes. 
The  Jews  had  been  a  nation  brought  up  among 
prophets  and  Scriptures  and  divine  ordinances. — 
They  had  abused  these  privileges  by  continuing  in 
unbelief.  God  had  shown  himself  long  suffering 
towards  them.  But  when  the  point  was  reached 
beyond  which  endurance  could  not  be  carried,  he 
stripped  them  of  all  their  distinctions,  burnt  down 
their  temple  and  cities,  banished  them  from  the  land 
given  to  Abraham,  abandoned  them  to  unbelief,  ig- 
norance, and  vice,  and  altogether  took  his  kingdom 
from  them.  This  was  exemplified  also  in  the  case 
of  the  seven  churches  of  Asia.  They  had  been 
planted  and  watered  by  the  labors  of  the  apostles. 
They  were  flourishing  and  exemplary  and  greatly 
beloved.  But  ere  the  apostolic  age  had  run  out, 
most  of  them  began  to  decline  in  piety ;  which  drew 
from  the  risen  Saviour  those  messages  of  reproof 
and  warning  contained  in  the  second  and  third 
chapters  of  Revelation.  To  the  Ephesian  church 
he  said,  "  Remember — from  whence  thou  art  fallen 
and  repent  and  do  the  first  works ;  or  else  I  will 
come  unto  thee  quickly  and  will  remove  thy  candle- 
stick out  of  his  place."  To  the  church  of  Perga- 
mos  he  said,  (in  reference  to  a  part  who  had  run 
into  error  and  were  tolerated  by  the  rest,)  "  Repent, 
or  else  I  will  come  unto  thee  quickly  and  will  fight 


488  GOSPEL  DESPISERS  PASSED  BY 

against  them  with  the  sword  of  my  mouth."  An 
equally  severe  threatening  was  directed  against 
a  part  of  the  church  of  Thyatira.  To  the  church 
in  Sardis  he  said,  "If— thou  shah  not  watch,  I 
will  come  on  thee  as  a  thief,  and  thou  shalt  not 
know  what  hour  I  will  come  upon  thee."  To  the 
church  in  Laodicea  he  said,  "Because  thou  art 
lukewarm  and  neither  cold  nor  hot,  I  will  spue  thee 
out  of  my  mouth."  The  churches  of  Smyrna  and 
Philadelphia  were  only  commended.  And  what 
now  is  the  state  of  those  seven  churches  and  their 
cities  ?  "  Ephesus,"  says  one,  "  is  now  venerable 
for  nothing  but  the  ruins  of  palaces,  temples  and 
amphitheatres. — The  town  is  merely  a  miserable 
village,  the  habitation  of  herdsmen  and  farmers,  liv- 
ing in  low  and  mean  huts,  sheltered  from  extremi- 
ties of  weather  by  mighty  masses  of  ruinous  walls. 
All  the  inhabitants — amount  not  to  above  forty  or 
fifty  families  of  Turks,  without  one  Christian  family 
among  them."*  Pergamos  "  is  now  an  inconside- 
rable place,  thinly  inhabited."!  At  Thyatira  "there 
now  dwell  about  four  or  five  thousand  Turks,  in  a 
good  air  and  soil,  but  amidst  multitudes  of  ancient 
ruins,  and  in  a  condition  sufficiently  wretched. "J 
At  Sardis  "there  still  remain  some  vestiges  of 
Christianity. — But  since  the  place  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  Saracens  and  Turks,  it  has  gradually  dwin- 
dled ;  and  nothing  now  remains  but  a  tolerable  inn, 
some  cottages  for  shepherds,  and  heaps  of  old  ru- 
ins."||     "Laodicea  is  not  only  unchurched,  but  is  a 

"  Rees.  t  Rees.  J  Brown.  ||  Brown. 


AND  THE  HEATHEN  TAKEN.  489 

mere  desert,  with  some  ruins  scarce  sufficient  to 
mark  that  ever  such  a  city  was  in  the  place."* 
Philadelphia  and  Smyrna,  which  were  so  commend- 
ed in  the  Revelation,  alone  retain  an}^  considerable 
respectability.  Philadelphia  "  was  very  considera- 
ble when  the  Turks  took  possession  of  it."t  It  is 
now  '•  the  see  of  a  Greek  bishop,"  and  "  contains 
about  two  thousand  christians  and  twenty-five 
places  of  public  worship,"  though  it  is  "  meanly 
built  and  thinly  inhabited. — Many  parts  of  the  an- 
cient walls  remain,  but  with  large  chasms." J  Symr- 
na  alone,  so  highly  praised  by  the  risen  Saviour, 
remains  a  flourishing  city.  It  contains  "  about 
130,000"  inhabitants  ;  of  whom  "  about  70,000  are 
Turks,— 10,000  Jews"  and  50,000  Christians.  It  is 
a  well  built  city  and  carries  on  an  extensive  com- 
merce with  all  the  world.  || 

Thus  five  of  the  seven  churches,  (the  same  that 
were  reproved  in  the  Revelation  for  their  abuse 
of  Christian  privileges,)  have  all  been  brought  to 
ruin  or  to  a  state  of  great  degradation,  and  the  whole 
have  been  given  into  the  hands,  first  of  the  Sara- 
cens, and  then  of  the  Turks.  Indeed  this  has  been 
the  case  with  the  whole  Greek  church,  except  its 
northern  limb  which  lies  in  the  Russian  empire. 
All  the  rest,  for  the  abuse  of  the  Gospel,  has  been 
overrun  by  the  Saracens  and  Turks,  abandoned  by 
the  Spirit,  debased  by  oppression,  and  left  in  the 
grossest  ignorance  and  vice.  This  is  the  case  with 
all  the  churches  mentioned  in  the  New  Testament 

•  Brown.  t  Rees.  {  Worcester.  ||  Ree« 

Vol.  I.  62 


490  GOSPEL    DESPISERS    PASSED    BY 

except  that  of  Rome.     What  an  awful  lesson  to  the 
abusers  of  the  Gospel ! 

It  is  a  remarkable  and  very  solemn  circumstance, 
that  the  time  when  the  kingdom  of  God  was  taken 
from  the  Jews,  was  when  it  was  carried  to  the  hea- 
then.    God  would  not  leave  himself  without  a  king- 
dom on  earth,  and  therefore  he  would  not  call  the 
Jewish  nation  to  a  final  and  decisive  account  for 
the  abuse  of  their  privileges,  till  he  was  prepared 
to  adopt  another  people ;  according  to  the  princi- 
ple involved  in  the  sentence  against  the  Jews,  "  The 
kingdom  of  God  shall  be  taken  from  you  and  given 
to  a  nation  bringing  forth  the  fruits  thereof."   These 
two  events  being  coupled  together  in  the  predic- 
tions, every  instance  of  Gentile  faith  in  the  time  of 
our  Saviour's  ministry,  was  an  alarming  symptom 
of  the  approaching  rejection  of  the  Jews.     Nor  was 
that  the  only  instance  in  which  God  had  decreed 
to   make  his  judgments   on  Gospel   despisers   to 
synchronize  with  the  call  of  the  heathen.     Such  a 
concurrence  of  dates  was  to  happen  in    the  age 
which  has  now  opened,  so  far  at  least  as  respects 
the  arraignment  of  the  Romish  church.     The  Ca- 
tholic world  have  for  ages  grossly  abused  the  Gos- 
pel.    They  have  reduced  it  to  a  system  of  state  po- 
licy and  of  gross  superstition,  to  render  it  an  en- 
gine to  govern  the  multitude  and  to  gratify  the  am- 
bition and  avarice  of  their  spiritual  lords.     Never 
since  the  days  of  the  Pharisees  has  the  Gospel  been 
so  arrantly  perverted.     To  illustrate  the  human 
heart  and  his  own  patience,  God  resolved  to  bear 
with  their  increasing  corruptions  for  1260  years. 


AND    THE    HEATHEN    TAKEN.  I'Jl 

But  the  time  to  remove  their  candlestick  out  of  its 
place  was  fixed.  And  it  was  fixed  to  the  time  when 
the  Gospel  should  be  generally  carried  to  the  hea- 
then. Look  at  this.  "  And  I  saw  another  angel 
fly  in  the  midst  of  heaven,  having  the  everlasting 
Gospel  to  preach  unto  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth, 
and  to  every  nation  and  kindred  and  tongue  and 
people  ;  saying  with  a  loud  voice,  Fear  God  and 
give  glory  to  him,  fcr  the  hour  of  his  judgment  is 
come. — And  there  followed  another  angel  saying, 
Babylon  is  fallen,  is  fallen."  By  Babylon  here  the 
whole  Protestant  world  understand  Rome,  including 
the  entire  Catholic  church  and  the  civil  govern- 
ments which  support  it.  The  judgment  is  set  forth 
in  so  close  a  connexion  with  the  evangelizing  of 
the  heathen,  that  the  thorough  entrance  on  mis- 
sionary exertions  becomes  an  infallible  sign  of  its 
approach.  Indeed  both  events  have  begun,  and 
began  the  same  year.  In  1792  the  first  missionary 
society  in  the  modern  series  was  formed,  and  the 
same  year  the  blood  began  to  flow  in  Catholic 
countries,  which  continued  for  more  than  twenty 
years,  and  went  far  towards  breaking  down  the 
power  of  that  church.  Whatever  intermissions 
may  take  place,  it  will  continue  to  flow  until  the 
whole  civil  and  ecclesiastical  structure  of  those  na- 
tions is  completely  subverted.  Long  ago  God 
took  from  them  in  a  great  measure  his  Spirit,  and 
now  he  will  take  from  them  the  form  of  their  church 
and  of  their  government.  This  is  the  judgment  to 
be  inflicted  on  a  hundred  millions  who  bear  the 
Christian    name,    comprehending   something    like 


492  GOSPEL  DESPISERS  PASSED  BY 

one  half  of  Christendom ;  and  this  is  the  age  in 
which  the  destruction  was  to  be  announced  by  mis- 
sions to  the  heathen.  Is  not  this  a  solemn  age  ? 
The  going  forth  of  missionaries  and  the  calling  in 
of  the  heathen,  are  a  public  token  that  the  time  is 
at  hand  when  nearly  one  half  of  the  Christian  world, 
for  their  abuse  of  the  Gospel,  are  to  be  completely 
unchurched,  and  to  lose  the  whole  structure  of  their 
ecclesiastical  and  civil  state. 

Is  it  not  time  for  Gospel  abusers  in  Protestant 
countries  to  tremble  ?  One  general  feature  of  the 
present  age  is,  that  while  with  one  hand  God  ga- 
thers in  the  heathen,  with  the  other  he  will  strip 
and  dash  those  miserable  men  who  have  long  slight- 
ed their  birthright.  Is  this  justice  to  be  confined 
to  Catholic  countries  ?  He  wishes  in  this  age  to 
make  a  display  of  himself  on  earth  as  being  such  a 
God :  must  he  necessarily  confine  his  displays  to 
countries  under  the  influence  of  the  church  of 
Rome  ?  He  will  indeed  hold  up  those  countries  to 
the  view  of  the  whole  world,  and  make  his  dealings 
with  them  to  be  seen  and  understood  by  all  enlight- 
ened nations  to  the  end  of  time ;  but  will  he  not 
pursue  the  same  course,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree, 
with  sinners  of  the  Protestant  faith?  I  hope  it  will 
not  be  found  necessary  at  this  late  day  to  break  up 
any  of  our  orthodox  churches.  And  yet  such  facts 
have  occurred,  even  in  our  own  land,  within  a  cen- 
tury. They  occurred  after  the  great  revival  of  re- 
ligion in  the  days  of  Whitefield.  But  even  if  such 
facts  are  not  to  be  repeated,  may  we  not  expect 
that  the  influences  of  the  Spirit  and  the  higher  bless- 


AND  THE  HEATHEN  TAKEN.  493 

ings  of  the  Gospel  will  be  taken  from  many  indivi- 
duals who  have  long  abused  their  privileges  ?  May 
■vve  not  expect  that  this  will  happen  to  many  of  our 
baptised  children  ?  This  brings  us  to  the  very  point 
of  distress.  How  many  of  our  dear  youth  who 
have  been  consecrated  to  God  and  nurtured  in  the 
lap  of  piety,  and  over  whose  unhappy  state  many 
a  parental  tear  has  flowed,  still  remain  stupid  in  sin 
and  carried  away  with  the  world.  They  come  to 
the  house  of  God  and  hear,  but  nothing  which  they 
hear  affects  their  hearts.  They  come  to  the  do- 
mestic altar,  but  half  of  the  time  their  hearts,  with 
the  fool's  eyes,  are  in  the  ends  of  the  earth.  They 
repeat  their  prayers  in  secret ;  (surely  children  who 
have  been  devoted  to  God  cannot  neglect  the  forms 
of  prayer :)  they  repeat  their  prayers  in  secret,  but 
it  is  only  with  their  lips,  while  their  hearts  are  far 
from  God.  They  read  the  Bible,  but  it  is  to  them 
a  sealed  book,  and  they  have  no  realizing  sense  that 
what  they  read  is  the  word  of  God.  They  pay  a 
decent  respect  to  the  sabbath  :  (surely  baptised 
children  cannot  profane  the  sabbath  by  rambling 
the  fields  or  reading  newspapers,  or  by  worldly  con- 
versation :)  they  pay  a  decent  respect  to  the  sab- 
bath, but  they  have  no  relish  for  the  proper  employ- 
ments of  the  day,  and  are  often  ready  to  say, 
"  What  a  weariness  is  it."  They  see  the  supper 
of  the  Lord  set  forth,  but  their  seats  are  empty  at 
the  table.  They  see  other  children  brought  in  the 
arms  of  their  parents  to  baptism,  but  it  is  with  no 
deep  impression  of  their  own  baptismal  obligations. 
The  Spirit  of  God  has  called  them,  but  this  sacred 


494  GOSPEL  DESPISERS  PASSED  BY 

influence  is  rejected.  They  have  heard  that  a  Sa- 
viour died  for  them,  but  they  are  penetrated  with 
no  love  or  gratitude  to  Christ.  Their  heavenly 
Father  heaps  daily  and  hourly  mercies  upon  them, 
but  they  never  once  sincerely  thank  him.  They 
have  committed  millions  of  sins,  each  of  vv^hich  de- 
serves eternal  fire,  and  yet  they  never  repented  of 
one.  They  carry  about  in  their  bosoms  hearts  of 
enmity  against  God,  and  yet  they  are  no  more  con- 
cerned than  though  they  had  nothing  there  but  love. 
They  lie  under  a  sentence  of  eternal  death,  and  yet 
they  can  dance  along  the  road  of  life  with  as  much 
glee  as  if  they  were  going  to  heaven.  Though 
heaven  threatens  and  calls  and  invites,  their  whole 
concern  is  after  the  world.  All  their  joy  lies  there 
and  all  their  trouble  springs  thence.  Their  hearts 
are  stupid  and  hard  and  full  of  unbelief.  And  they 
are  growing  harder  every  day.  Formerly,  when 
they  attended  funerals  or  heard  awakening  sermons, 
they  would  tremble ;  but  now  they  can  see  and  hear 
with  comparative  indifference.  All  this  time  the 
privileges  which  they  thus  abuse  are  marked  with 
the  price  of  blood.  All  this  time  they  are  surround- 
ed with  advantages  which  not  one  child  in  a  hun- 
dred ever  enjoyed.  And  have  we  no  reason  to 
tremble  for  them  ?  Have  we  no  reason  to  fear  that 
God,  wearied  out  with  their  obstinacy,  will  with- 
draw his  influence  from  them  altogether  and  carry 
it  to  heathen  children  ?  Have  we  not  special  rea- 
son to  fear  this  in  reference  to  those  who  were  once 
awakened  and  have  gone  back  ?  Why  should  we 
not  fear  and  tremble  ?    We  see  the  children  of  other 


AND  THE  HEATHEN  TAKEN.  495 

Christians,  and  even  of  some  of  the  best  of  men, 
living  and  dying  without  rehgion,  and  even  becom- 
ing profligates.  There  were  the  wicked  children 
of  Noah,  of  Job,  of  Abraham,  of  Aaron,  of  Eli, 
of  Samuel,  of  David,  of  Hezekiah,  of  Josiah,  and 
of  many  eminent  Christians  and  Christian  ministers 
in  modern  times.  There  is  no  certainty  in  respect 
to  any  that  they  will  be  saved  because  they  have 
pious  parents  and  have  been  dedicated  to  God. 
But  on  the  contrary,  we  have  great  reason  to  fear 
that  in  many  instances,  for  their  long  abuse  of 
privileges,  the  Spirit  will  be  taken  from  them  and 
given  to  the  children  of  the  heathen.  The  Spi- 
rit of  God  ordinarily  moves  so  far  in  a  line  with 
nature,  that  what  nature  would  seem  most  likely  to 
produce,  more  generally  takes  place  under  his  in- 
fluence. Now  to  pagan  children  the  Gospel  is  new, 
and  on  that  account  more  aftecting.  Its  wonders 
break  upon  them  and  arrest  their  attention  to  many 
things  which  are  passed  over  by  children  accustomed 
to  them.  Their  hearts  moreover  have  not  been 
hardened  by  listening  to  its  sound  without  regard- 
ing it.  On  these  accounts  the  Gospel,  according 
to  the  course  of  nature,  is  more  likely  to  take  strong 
hold  of  pagan  children  than  of  those  who  have 
grown  up  in  unbelief  under  its  light.  And  the- 
Spirit,  moving  in  a  line  with  nature,  is  more  likely 
to  make  it  effectual  to  their  hearts  when  the  way  is 
suitably  prepared.  Something  of  this  may  be  the 
meaning  of  those  words,  "  Wo  unto  thee,  Chora- 
zin ; — for  if  the  mighty  works  which  were  done  in 
you  had  been  done  in  Tyre  and  Sidon,  they  would 


496  GOSPEL  DESPISERS  PASSED  BY 

have  repented  long  ago  :"  and  "  if  the  mighty  works 
which  have  been  done  in  thee  had  been  done  in  So- 
dom, it  would  have  remained  until  this  day." 

All  this  is  said  without  reference  to  the  abandon- 
ment of  Gospel  despisers  by  a  judicial  sentence. 
But  this  also  is  to  be  reckoned  upon.  In  many  in- 
stances the  resistance  of  the  Holy  Spirit  becomes 
the  unpardonable  sin.  On  all  these  accounts  it  may 
be  calculated  that  heathen  children  are  more  likely 
to  be  brought  in  by  Christian  preachers,  than  some 
of  those  who  have  long  resisted  the  calls  of  the 
Gospel,  the  tears  of  parents,  and  the  prayers  of  the 
Church.  And  so  it  will  happen  that  "  many  shall 
come  from  the  east  and  west  and  shall  sit  down  with 
Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  but  the  children  of  the  kingdom  shall  be 
cast  out  into  outer  darkness."  Many  of  the  poor 
Osage  children  will  be  gathered  in,*  while  many  of 
the  children  of  the  covenant  will  be  cast  out.  The 
squalid  sons  of  the  southern  islands,  the  sable  suck- 
lings of  Ethiopia  and  India,  will  sing  hosannas  to 
the  Son  of  David  in  the  high  courts  of  heaven, 
while  many  of  the  children  of  our  prayers  will  be 
cast  out  into  outer  darkness.  Ah,  when  they  shall 
look  up  and  see  the  children  of  the  forest  enjoying 
the  bliss  of  heaven  while  they  are  cast  out,  there 
will  indeed  be  "  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth." 
When  they  shall  look  up  and  see  their  pious  parents 
in  heaven,  and  find  themselves  confined  to  the  so- 
ciety of  devils,  ah,  will  there  not  be  "  weeping  and 

•  The  congregation  had  just  been  assisting  in  sending  a  mission  to  the 
Osages. 


AND  THE  HEATHEN  TAKEN.  497 

gnashing  of  teeth?"  When  they  shall  look  up  and 
see  that  father  who  used  to  bend  over  them  with  so 
much  solemnity  when  he  warned  and  entreated  them, 
and  that  mother  so  full  of  tenderness  and  love  when 
she  took  them  aside  for  prayer,  ah,  with  what  agony 
will  they  cast  themselves  on  the  fiery  pavement  and 
tear  their  eyes  and  curse  their  folly  and  wish  ten 
thousand  times  that  they  had  never  been  born.  O 
my  dear  children,  you  have  done  something  to  send 
the  Gospel  to  the  poor  Indians,  and  the  children  of 
those  heathen  are  coming  in :  is  it  that  they  may 
take  your  places  in  heaven  and  you  be  cast  out  ? 
There  is  a  sound  from  the  forest,  as  though  God 
was  about  to  carry  his  kingdom  to  another  people : 
is  it  that  it  may  be  taken  from  you  ?  Are  the  hopes 
which  we  have  all  had  about  the  heathen  to  end  in 
this  ?  Have  you  been  laboring  only  to  bring  forward 
a  company  of  pagan  children  to  receive  the  blessing 
which  you  have  rejected  ?  to  take  your  place  in  the 
covenant  and  in  heaven  and  to  thrust  you  out? 
After  all  your  animation  and  hopes  for  those  poor 
pagan  babes,  and  after  all  that  you  have  done  for 
them,  are  you  never  to  go  in  with  them?  are  you 
to  see  them  take  away  your  forfeited  birthright  ?  I 
rejoice  that  they  are  coming  in  even  if  you  arc  cast 
out.  But  why,  my  dear  children,  need  you  lose 
your  birthright  to  favor  them?  There  is  enough 
for  both  them  and  you.  We  naturally  feel  most  for 
you,  and  we  cannot  bear  to  see  the  kingdom  of 
God  taken  from  you  to  be  given  to  strangers.  Let 
the  strangers  have  it,  but  have  it  also  yourselves. 
Detain  it  among  you.  Set  it  up  in  your  hearts. 
Vol.  1.  63 


498  GOSPEL    DESPISERS    PASSED   BY 

Hasten  to  improve  that  Gospel  which  is  about  to 
take  its  flight  to  the  wilderness.  Hasten  to  submit 
to  that  Spirit  who  is  about  to  stretch  his  wings  to- 
wards the  prairies  of  the  setting  sun.  Hasten  to 
benefit  from  your  privileges  before  they  are  taken 
from  you  and  transplanted  into  the  forests  of  the 
west. 

All  this  I  have  addressed  to  baptised  children, 
who  are  emphatically  "  the  children  of  the  king- 
dom." But  what  shall  I  say  to  those,  who,  whether 
baptised  or  not,  have  grown  up  to  manhood  under 
the  sound  of  the  Gospel  without  improving  it  ?  who 
have  been  hardening  against  God  and  his  calls  for 
twenty,  thirty,  forty,  or  fifty  years?  Tired  out 
with  your  long  and  obstinate  abuse  of  privileges, 
God  seems  now  about  to  try  an  experiment  upon 
another  people.  What  will  be  the  effect  on  your  con- 
dition time  must  determine.  But  if  it  shall  prove  that 
you  arc  to  be  stripped  and  abandoned  at  the  same 
moment  that  the  Gospel  is  carried  to  the  heathen, 
it  will  be  only  analogous  to  the  two  instances  which 
have  been  referred  to  ;  one,  the  treatment  of  God's 
ancient  people  and  of  the  early  Christian  churches, 
the  other,  the  predicted  dispensations  of  the  pre- 
sent day.  Wherein  do  you  essentially  differ  from 
the  ancient  Jews,  who  had  long  enjoyed  the  privi- 
leges of  the  Gospel  but  had  never  brought  forth 
fruit  ?  And  wherein  do  you  essentially  differ  from 
those  who  have  adopted  the  Romish  faith  ?  They 
have  had  the  Scriptures  in  their  hands,  but  have 
never  improved  them ;  so  have  you.  They  have 
brought  forth  nothing  but  sin  under  all  the  lights  of 


AND  THE  HEATHEN  TAKEN.  499 

the  Gospel ;  so  have  you.  They  are  God's  ene- 
mies, and  so  are  you.  Indeed  your  light  has  tran- 
scended theirs,  and  your  guilt  on  this  account  is 
increased.  Why  then  may  not  God  strip  and  aban- 
don you  when  he  carries  his  kingdom  to  the  hea- 
then, as  well  as  Jews  and  Catholics  ?  Have  you 
not  reason  to  fear  it  ?  Every  account  of  a  new 
mission  established, — every  account  of  the  conver- 
sion of  a  pagan, — may  well  fill  you  with  alarm. 
Perhaps  it  is  your  funeral  knell,  announcing  your 
eternal  death.  Every  such  account  should  set  in 
broad  letters  before  you  that  awful  sentence,  "  The 
kingdom  of  God  shall  be  taken  from  you  and  given 
to  a  nation  bringing  forth  the  fruits  thereof."  This 
is  a  new  source  of  fear.  You  knew  that  you  had 
cause  to  fear  when  you  looked  to  hell.  You  may 
have  learnt  that  you  had  cause  to  fear  when  you 
looked  to  Calvary, — that  you  might  hear  from  that 
awful  spot  a  voice  saying,  "  If  they  do  these  things 
in  a  green  tree,  what  shall  be  done  in  the  dry?" 
But  never  perhaps  before  did  you  understand  that 
you  had  reason  to  fear  when  you  heard  of  the  con- 
version of  the  heathen.  Never  perhaps  before  did 
you  understand  that  this  mighty  movement  on  earth 
was  as  the  knell  of  death  to  you.  Dangers  and 
threatenings  are  starting  up  from  quarters  Mhere. 
you  least  expected  them.  But  the  truth  is  that  the 
whole  universe  is  full  of  dangers  for  Gospel  despi- 
sers.  There  are  trains  of  causes  secretly  working 
your  ruin  in  ten  thousand  circumstances  where  you 
never  dreamed  of  their  existing.  Could  the  cover- 
ing be  taken  off  from  all  these  latent  dangers,  you 


500  GOSPEL  DESPISERS  PASSED  BY 

would  see  a  sword  pointed  at  your  heart  from  every 
quarter  of  the  universe.  There  is  no  safety  any- 
where for  an  enemy  of  God,  for  an  abuser  of  the 
Gospel,  for  a  wretch  that  can  trample  under  foot 
a  Saviour's  blood.  The  heavens  are  ready  to 
shower  down  vengeance  ;  the  earth  on  which  you 
tread  is  stored  with  magazines  of  wrath;  the  bless- 
ings sent  on  others  are  full  of  curses  for  you ;  and 
even  the  conversion  of  the  heathen  has  in  it  a  voice 
of  thunder  which  may  well  break  the  slumbers  of 
the  grave.  Up  before  the  kingdom  is  altogether 
taken  from  you.  Prostrate  yourselves  in  haste  be- 
fore the  Author  of  a  long  abused  Gospel, — before 
the  God  who  has  spoken  in  it  unheard, — before  the 
Saviour  whom  it  has  reported  to  you  in  vain. — 
Kneel  down  in  the  dust  before  the  God  of  all  your 
privileges.  What  mean  you  to  remain  still  erect  ? 
Is  your  heart  of  stone  and  is  your  brow  of  ada- 
mant ?  But  that  heart  shall  melt  in  the  day  that  he 
shall  deal  with  you,  and  that  brow,  hard  as  it  is, 
shall  be  scarred  with  thunder. 

Before  the  kingdom  is  quite  departed,  I  will  once 
more  try  the  Gospel  upon  you.  On  that  throne  sits 
a  pardoning  God,  bending  over  you  with  all  the 
compassion  of  a  Father,  and,  with  a  voice  sweeter 
than  an  angel's  harp,  inviting  you  to  his  arms.  On 
that  cross  hung  your  bleeding  Lord,  when  he  sunk 
under  the  burden  of  your  sins  and  died  to  save  your 
lives.  His  languishing  eyes  fix  on  Mary  and  then 
on  you.  Over  the  pollutions  of  your  sepulchre 
hovers  the  heavenly  Dove,  offering  to  brood  the 
stagnant  mass  into  life.     Every  energy  of  the  Sa- 


AND  THE  HEATHEN  TAKEN.  501 

cred  Three  stands  ready  to  aid  you ;  every  com- 
passion is  prepared  to  receive  you.  All  heaven 
says,  Come.  All  the  Church  on  earth  says,  Come. 
Come,  for  all  things  are  ready.  Come  with  all 
your  guilt  upon  you  and  receive  "  without  money 
and  without  price."  In  no  way  can  you  so  gratify 
the  compassions  of  a  God ;  in  no  way  can  you  so 
much  gladden  the  heart  that  bled  for  you  on  the 
point  of  the  spear ;  in  no  way  can  you  waken  up  so 
animated  a  jubilee  in  heaven. 

I  have  made  the  trial :  and  now  if  you  again  re- 
ject the  Gospel,  and  the  kingdom  from  this  moment 
departs,  all  heaven  and  earth  will  say,  Your  blood 
be  upon  your  own  head.     Amen. 


SERMON  XV, 


QUZXCH  50T  THE  SPffilT. 


L  Thes.  v.  19.« 
Qiioidi  not  tie  Spirit 

The  Spirit  is  compared  to  fire,  on  account  of  its 
enlishtenincr  and  refining  influence :  and  hence  the 
implication  that  it  maj  be  quenched.  It  performs 
the  two  fold  work  of  convincing  and  sanctifjring. 
Christians  for  a  time  may  quench  the  fervor  of  love 
produced  bv  the  sanctifying  Spirit,  by  resisting  the 
liaht  thrown  upon  their  minds  by  the  convicting 
Spirit ;  and  to  Christians  the  test  seems  primarily 
addressed.  But  the  general  warning  not  to  resist 
the  Spirit,  is  addressed  to  all.  The  impenitent  may 
resist  the  Spirit,  not  only  by  disobeying  and  disbe- 
lieving those  Scriptures  which  he  endited,  but  by 
rejecting  the  Hght  which  he  throws  upon  their  con- 
sciencer    -Ye  stifif-necked  and  uncircumcised  in 

•PreKhed  im  a  r«m«l  of  religion 


504  QUENCH    NOT 

heart  and  ears,  ye  do  always  resist  the  Holy  Ghost : 
as  your  fathers  did  so  do  ye." 

I  choose  to  consider  the  subject  in  reference  to 
the  impenitent,  and  in  reference  chiefly  to  the  light 
shed  upon  their  conscience. 

All  that  the  Spirit  does  to  the  impenitent,  besides 
giving  them  the  Scriptures,  is  to  bring  the  truths  of 
the  Bible  into  contact  with  the  sensibilities  of  their 
soul,  and  to  make  them  felt,  though  not  loved. 
Whether  the  operation  is  on  the  head  or  heart,  or 
on  which  of  the  several  powers  ranged  under  these 
names,  I  cannot  tell ;  nor  how  the  truth  that  was 
well  known  before,  can  be  brought  more  clearly 
into  the  mind's  eye  while  the  temper  of  the  heart 
remains  unchanged.  All  this  is  among  the  secrets 
of  divine  operations  which  men  are  probably  never 
to  understand.  But  thus  much  is  certain  :  nothing 
is  done  in  this  matter  but  to  carry  light  in  and  lay 
it  before  the  eye  of  the  mind,  in  a  manner  to  make 
it  felt.  That  light  is  susceptible  of  resistance,  as 
much  as  the  light  which  lies  on  the  sacred  page. 
It  is  indeed  the  same  light,  but  only  more  distinctly 
seen.  And  that  resistance  may  be  punished  by  the 
removal  of  the  light,  and  by  leaving  the  cloud  of 
stupid  unbelief  to  resettle  upon  the  mind  in  still 
darker  folds. 

The  Spirit  could  doubtless  conquer  this  resistance 
by  sanctifying  power ;  but  his  object  in  mere  con- 
viction is  to  treat  with  the  sinner  as  a  moral  agent, 
or  as  a  creature  bound  to  improve  light.  It  is  a 
part  of  the  same  system  that  furnished  him  with 
the  external  light  of  the  Gospel.    It  is  of  the  na- 


THE    SPIRIT.  505 

ture  of  an  invitation  whispered  in  his  ear.  But  it 
no  more  follows  that  he  must  be  sanctified,  than 
that  all  must  be  sanctified  who  hear  the  Gospel. 
Let  us  contemplate, 

I.  The  ways  in  which  the  Spirit  is  resisted  ; 

II.  The  sin  and  danger  of  doing  this ; 

III.  Other  reasons  which  ought  to  dissuade  men 
from  this  course. 

I.  The  ways  in  which  the  Spirit  is  resisted. 

(1.)  It  is  resisted  by  every  kind  of  outward  sin ; 
by  profaneness,  by  speaking  against  the  work  of 
the  Spirit,  by  mocking  or  opposing  it,  by  false  or 
defamatory  words,  by  profanation  of  the  sabbath 
in  conversation  or  conduct,  by  every  unhallowed 
pleasure,  by  intemperance,  by  injustice  in  dealings, 
and  by  every  failure  to  do  to  others  as  we  would 
have  others  do  to  us. 

(2.)  It  is  resisted  by  harbored  doubts  of  the  truth 
of  the  Bible,  of  the  Trinity,  of  future  or  of  end- 
less punishment,  of  regeneration.  Disbelief  of  the 
Bible  or  of  its  leading  truths,  does  not  arise  from 
want  of  evidence,  but  from  wickedness  of  heart. 

(3.)  It  is  resisted  by  all  unseasonable  levity;  such 
as  levity  in  the  house  of  God,  or  in  the  place  of 
prayers,  or  just  before  entering  either.  A  little 
boisterous  mirth  or  play,  or  even  a  light  word, 
while  one  is  under  conviction,  may  banish  the  Spi- 
rit from  him.  A  light  remark  about  religion  at  such 
a  time  may  banish  it  forever. 

(4.)  The  Spirit  is  resisted  by  all  attempts  to 
throw  off  serious  impressions,  arising  from  direct 
aversion  to  God  and  his  ways,  from  a  selfish  wisii 

Vol.  I.  64 


506  QUENCH    NOT 

"  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season,"  from 
a  proud  reluctance  to  give  up  prospects  of  worldly 
honor  and  gain,  from  a  proud  fear  of  the  derision 
of  the  wicked,  or  from  resentments  at  Christians  for 
their  harassing  exhortations. 

(5.)  It  is  resisted  by  the  neglect  of  means;  by 
refusing  to  pray,  by  refusing  to  attend  religious 
meetings, by  refusing  to  be  approached  by  Christians 
for  religious  conversation,  by  neglecting  to  read  the 
Bible  daily,  by  neglecting  to  meditate  on  divine 
subjects. 

(6.)  It  is  resisted  by  sluggish  exertions, — half 
awake  in  prayer, — in  prayer  continued  but  for  a  few 
seconds, — listless  under  sermons,  listless  in  reading 
and  meditation  ;  all  evincing  a  heart  unengaged, 
and  even  the  absence  of  thorough  conviction. 

(7.)  It  is  resisted,  even  in  the  most  awakened, 
by  the  sins  of  the  heart ;  by  selfishness,  pride,  and 
idolatry  ;  by  want  of  holy  love  to  man  ;  by  enmity 
against  God ;  by  unbelief,  that  excludes  conviction, 
that  excludes  a  sense  of  the  desert  of  hell,  that  ex- 
cludes a  sense  of  the  need  of  a  Saviour ;  by  that 
obstinate  blindness  and  hardness  that  will  not  re- 
pent, that  will  not  cast  the  soul  upon  Christ,  that 
will  not  accept  him  for  a  Saviour,  that  will  not  be- 
lieve in  the  reality  and  sincerity  of  his  appointment; 
by  that  proud  self-sufficiency  that  will  not  cast  the 
soul  upon  the  divine  Spirit  for  all  its  moral  strength, 
but  relies  on  its  own  power  to  change  the  heart, 
and  puts  that  power  in  the  room  of  the  Holy  Ghost; 
by  that  self-righteousness  which  hopes  by  present 
duties  to  make  amends  for  past  neglects  and  sins. 


THE    SPIRIT.  507 

and  to  purchase  eternal  life,  putting  those  duties  in 
the  room  of  Christ's  atonement  and  obedience, — 
which  hopes  to  move  God  by  its  prayers  without 
respect  to  a  Mediator,  putting  those  prayers  in  the 
room  of  the  intercession  of  Christ ;  by  that  obsti- 
nate rebellion  which  refuses  to  devote  to  God  and 
his  service  all  the  powers  and  possessions, — which 
refuses  to  render  universal  obedience  or  any  obedi- 
ence at  all. 

The  awakened  sinner  does  nothing  which  the 
Spirit  invites  him  to,  except  the  mere  outward  form. 
In  every  moral  motion  of  his  heart  he  resists  the 
Spirit  with  the  whole  strength  of  his  soul.  All  his 
exertions  are  selfish  and  proud.  He  cares  nothing 
about  the  glory  of  God.  Had  no  prospect  of  re- 
ward allured  him,  he  would  never  have  troubled 
himself  about  religion.  Had  interest  prompted,  he 
would  with  as  much  earnestness  have  blasphemed 
the  name  of  God.  The  whole  plan  on  which  he 
acts  is  to  find  salvation  without  a  Saviour, — to  in- 
duce God,  in  some  way  or  other  by  his  own  exer- 
tions, to  confer  on  him  pardon  and  eternal  hfe. 
He  often  wonders  why  God  is  not  moved  by  his  du- 
ties, and  his  heart  rises  against  him ;  and  then  he 
goes  to  work  with  increased  earnestness,  hoping  to 
succeed  better  with  a  greater  exertion  of  strength : 
but  it  is  all  without  dependance  on  Christ  or  the 
Holy  Spirit.  He  is  constantly  going  farther  and 
farther  from  God ;  and  when  the  small  still  voice 
comes,  it  will  be  "  a  word  hcUnd''  him,  "  saying, 
This  is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it."  The  prodigal  ne- 
ver took  one  step  towards  home  until  "  he  came  to 


508  QUENCH    NOT 

himself."  Nor  will  the  sinner,  with  all  his  efforts, 
assist  God  in  changing  his  heart.  He  will  do  no- 
thing but  oppose  to  the  last.  And  his  efforts,  which 
nevertheless  are  all  important,  are  chiefly  necessary 
to  convince  him  that  he  can  do  nothing. 

11.  Let  us  consider  the  sin  and  danger  of  this  re- 
sistance. 

(1.)  It  is  an  enormous  sin  against  hght.  As  the 
Holy  Spirit  puts  into  the  eye  of  the  mind  the  whole 
mass  of  revealed  truth,  this  resistance  is  a  direct 
opposition  to  the  whole, — is  a  distinct  rejection  of 
the  whole.  It  is  a  war  against  all  the  light  that  has 
come  to  our  world  respecting  God  and  eternity, — 
respecting  the  work  of  redemption,  and  God  as  he 
appears  in  that  work, — respecting  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Ghost, — respecting  the  authority  and  love  of 
God, — respecting  his  mercy  and  compassions  as  ex- 
pressed in  the  invitations  and  promises  of  the  Gos- 
pel,— respecting  all  that  God  has  done  for  our  world 
and  all  his  manifestations  to  men.  All  is  brought 
near  by  the  Holy  Spirit :  God,  in  all  his  authority 
and  love,  is  brought  near ;  and  all  is  distinctly  re- 
jected. 

That  sin  is  aggravated  by  light,  is  no  less  a  doc- 
trine of  Scripture  than  of  common  sense.  "  That 
servant  which  knew  his  lord's  will  and  prepared  not 
himself,  neither  did  according  to  his  will,  shall  be 
beaten  with  many  stripes."  "If  I  had  not  come 
and  spoken  unto  them,  they  had  not  had  sin ;  but 
now  they  have  no  cloak  for  their  sin."  "  If  ye  were 
blind  ye  should  have  no  sin,  but  now  ye  say.  We 
see,  therefore  your  sin  remaineth."     "Wo  unto 


THE    SPIRIT.  509 

thee,  Chorazin,  wo  unto  thee,  Bethsaida;  for  if 
the  mighty  works  which  were  done  in  you  had 
been  done  in  Tyre  and  Sidon,  they  would  have 
repented  long  ago  in  sackcloth  and  ashes.  But  I 
say  unto  you,  it  shall  be  more  tolerable  for  Tyre 
and  Sidon  in  the  day  of  judgment  than  for  you. 
And  thou  Capernaum,  which  art  exalted  unto  hea- 
ven, shalt  be  brought  down  to  hell ;  for  if  the  mighty 
works  which  have  been  done  in  thee  had  been  done 
in  Sodom,  it  would  have  remained  until  this  day. 
But  I  say  unto  you,  that  it  shall  be  more  tolerable 
for  the  land  of  Sodom  in  the  day  of  judgment  than 
for  thee." 

(2.)  God  has  been  at  infinite  expense  to  send 
you  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  law  had  doomed  our 
race  to  the  curse  of  perpetual  abandonment.  The 
Son  of  God  must  come  down  and  die  on  a  cross  to 
render  i:  possible  for  the  Spirit  to  get  to  our  world 
in  consistency  with  the  honor  of  the  law,  and  he 
must  rer.der  perfect  obedience,  under  circumstan- 
ces the  most  difficult,  to  render  that  mission  certain^ 
and  to  give  him  a  covenant  claim  to  it.  When  he 
ascended  on  high  he  received  this  gift  for  men  as 
his  own  reward,  and  sent  it  out  on  the  day  of  Pen- 
tecost. And  now  for  you  to  reject  the  ministry  of 
the  third  Person  in  the  adorable  Trinity,  procured 
for  you  by  the  obedience  and  death  of  Christ,  is 
presumption  and  ingratitude  that  know  no  bounds. 
It  was  infinite  kindness  in  God  to  send  down  the 
Holy  Spirit  in  the  present  most  merciful  visitation, 
and  that  he  did  not  send  you  to  hell  three  months 
ago,  but  suffered  you  to  live  to  share  in  this  infinite 


510  aUENCH    NOT 

grace.  In  this  he  gave  you  more  than  though  he 
had  bestowed  upon  you  ten  thousand  worlds  of  gold. 
And  yet  you  will  not  stoop  to  pick  it  up,  nor  thank 
him  for  it,  nor  listen  to  the  message  it  brings,  nor 
take  any  notice  of  it,  except  perhaps  to  resent  the 
uneasiness  it  occasions.  Let  heaven  and  earth 
judge  between  you  and  God,  and  estimate  the  infi- 
nite ingratitude  of  such  returns. 

On  these  accounts  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Spi- 
rit is  the  greatest  of  all  sins,  and  when  carried  to  a 
certain  extent  and  attended  with  sufficient  know- 
ledge and  malice,  is  unpardonable,  and  is  the  only 
sin  that  is  unpardonable. 

That  particular  form  of  it  which  consists  in  wil- 
fully opposing  the  work  of  the  Spirit  and  speaking 
reproachfully  of  it,  is  very  distinctly  marked.  The 
Pharisees  maliciously  ascribed  the  miracles  of  Je- 
sus, wrought  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  the  agency  of 
Beelzebub,  and  this  they  did  against  their  better 
judgment.  The  parable  represents  them  as  saying, 
"  This  is  the  heir ;  come  let  us  kill  him  and — seize 
on  the  inheritance."  "  Then  cried  Jesus  in  the  tem- 
ple as  he  taught,  saying.  Ye  both  know  me  and  ye 
know  whence  I  am."  They  malignantly  took  coun- 
sel to  put  Lazarus  to  death  because  he  had  been 
raised  from  the  dead ;  and  in  every  case  their  spite 
was  more  inflamed  as  the  evidence  increased.  And 
at  last,  when  the  Roman  soldiers  came  into  the 
city,  all  breathless,  and  testified  of  the  resurrec- 
tion and  the  vision  of  angels,  they  went  to  the 
damning  extreme  of  hiring  them  to  perjure  their 
souls  by  swearing  that  the  disciples  came  by  night 


THE    SPIRIT.  511 

and  stole  him  away.  This  is  a  specimen  of  what 
the  human  heart  can  do  :  and  it  proves  that  when 
they  ascribed  the  miracles  of  Christ  to  the  power  of 
Beelzebub,  they  lied  against  their  own  conscience ; 
and  therefore  their  sin  was  that  "  unto  death." 

There  may  be  some  who  are  acting  the  same 
part  now ;  combining  to  stop  this  work  of  God  and 
loading  it  with  reproaches,  though  they  know  it  is 
the  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  They  were  brought 
up  perhaps  by  pious  parents  and  cradled  in  revi- 
vals. If  they  had  plunged  into  the  kennels  of  vice, 
they  might  have  seared  their  conscience  into  infi- 
delity ;  but  this  they  have  not  done.  They  know 
the  Bible  is  true,  and  that  this  revival  is  the  work 
of  God.  They  try  to  doubt,  but  they  cannot  doubt. 
Look  at  your  late  companions,  no  better  than  you, 
who  are  now  at  their  prayers.  Who  has  produced 
this  wondrous  change  ?  You  know  it  was  the  power 
of  God  :  and  yet  you  vilify  and  blaspheme.  So  far 
from  doubting,  you  are  enraged  that  others  are  ta- 
ken and  you  are  left.  And  yet  how  could  you  ex- 
pect to  be  taken  when  you  would  not  pray,  nor  do 
any  thing  but  oppose  with  the  fury  of  a  fiend  ?  Be- 
ware. You  are  treading,  in  the  dark,  near  the  verge 
of  a  pit,  down  which  if  you  fall  you  rise  no  more. 
Some  of  you  have  probably  already  committed  the 
unpardonable  sin.  And  what  are  you  doing  (  Try- 
ing to  prevent  the  religion  and  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven from  spreading  in  the  world,  knowing  them  to 
be  such :  trying  to  prevent  rebels  from  going  over 
from  Satan  to  the  service  of  Christ,  with  your  eyes 
open  to  what  you  arc  doing :  trying  to  prevent  your 


512  QUENCH    NOT 

friends,  whom  you  profess  to  love,  from  escaping 
from  an  eternal  hell  to  an  eternal  heaven,  because 
their  conversion  would  torment  your  conscience ; 
knowing  all  the  time  that  you  are  committing  this 
most  flagitious  of  all  murders.  Never  were  men 
pursuing  a  course  more  hazardous  or  more  diabo- 
lical. 

But  there  are  other  forms  of  resisting  the  Holy 
Ghost  which  lead  to  death.  The  mere  continuance 
in  stupidity  in  such  a  day  as  this,  hardens  the  heart. 
The  refusal  of  the  awakened  to  submit,  banishes 
the  Spirit  from  their  minds.  All  their  impressions 
suddenly  disappear  like  the  lightning  of  heaven, 
and  the  night  becomes  the  darker  for  the  momen- 
tary gleam  of  light.  Many  are  given  over  to  infi- 
delity and  to  work  all  iniquity  with  greediness. — 
They  go  and  take  to  themselves  "  seven  other  spi- 
rits more  wicked  than"  themselves,  "  and  the  last 
state"  of  those  men  "  is  worse  than  the  first." — 
There  are  doubtless  many  in  the  lowest  dungeons 
of  hell  who  in  their  life  time  trembled  under  strong 
convictions.  Many,  by  going  back,  are  sealed 
over  to  the  eternal  judgment.  "For  it  is  impossi- 
ble for  those  who  were  once  enlightened,  and  have 
tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift,  and  were  made  partak- 
ers of  the  Holy  Ghost, — if  they  shall  fall  away,  to 
renew  them  again  unto  repentance;  seeing  they 
crucify  to  themselves  the  Son  of  God  afresh  and 
put  him  to  an  open  shame."  "  For  if  w^e  sin  wilfully 
after  that  we  have  received  the  knowledge  of  the 
truth,  there  remaineth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sins, 
but  a  certain  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  and 


THE    SPIRIT.  513 

fiery  indignation  which  shall  devour  the  adversa- 
ries." 

III.  There  are  other  reasons  which  ought  to  dis- 
suade you  from  this  course. 

You  cannot  prevail  against  God.  You  may  har- 
den yourselves  in  your  pride  and  in  the  countenance 
of  your  ungodly  companions ;  but  when  he  shall 
enter  into  judgment  with  you,  your  strength  and 
your  courage  will  all  melt  away  like  wax.  "  Let 
the  potsherd  strive  with  the  potsherds  of  the  earth," 
but  "  wo  unto  him  that  striveth  with  his  Maker." 
If  this  struggle  is  continued  between  a  worm  and 
the  infinite  God,  the  worm  must  infallibly  be  crush- 
ed to  death. 

In  resisting  the  Holy  Ghost  you  resist  not  only 
the  chief  source  of  present  comfort,  but  the  only 
helper  on  the  way  to  heaven.  If  you  reject  him 
you  reject  your  all,  and  must  inevitably  perish. — 
Should  the  Holy  Spirit  forsake  the  best  Christian 
on  earth,  even  on  the  borders  of  heaven,  that  man 
would  sink,  with  the  rapidity  of  a  falling  star,  into 
eternal  darkness. 

The  Spirit  will  "not  always  strive  with  man." 
Many  are  left  in  early  life.  It  has  often  been  taunt- 
ingly said  that  the  children  of  pious  parents  are 
worse  than  others.  This  is  because  it  happens  so 
in  some  cases.  Those  who,  like  Esau,  have  sold 
their  birth-right,  become,  like  the  Jews,  the  wick- 
eder for  the  privileges  they  have  abused ;  and  often 
find  "  no  place  of  repentance,  though"  they  seek 
it   "carefully  with   tears."     There   are   probably 

Vol.  I,  66 


8|5t  QUENCH    NOT 

some  abandoned  in  every  revival.  You  are  now 
therefore  acting  on  the  ridge  of  danger, — on  the 
brink  of  fate.  You  have  come  to  a  most  awful 
crisis.  Every  motion  is  in  the  midst  of  peril; 
every  moment  is  pregnant  with  life  or  death.  It 
behooves  you  to  be  fully  awake.  If  ever  you  had 
occasion  for  all  your  powers,  this  is  the  time.  I 
bless  God  that  it  is  not  too  late  with  you  all.  Not- 
withstanding your  long  resistance  and  delay,  the 
Spirit  is  still  hovering  over  you.  Notwithstanding 
all  your  ingratitude  and  hardness,  he  still  woos  you 
and  entreats  you  to  come  away,  and  offers  to  assist 
you  with  all  his  strength.  He  knocks  at  your  door 
and  says,  "  If  any  man  hear  my  voice  and  open  the 
door,  I  will  come  in  to  him  and  will  sup  with  him 
and  he  with  me."  He  stands  under  your  window  and 
cries,  "  Open  to  me, — for  my  head  is  filled  with 
dew  and  my  locks  with  the  drops  of  the  night."  In 
this  manner  he  has  followed  you  "  from  a  child." 
When  in  the  dusk  of  evening  you  were  driven  into 
a  secret  place  to  pray;  when  by  a  new  opened 
grave,  or  under  a  pungent  sermon,  or  under  the 
meltings  of  parental  reproof,  you  were  smitten  with 
a  sense  of  sin,  or  glanced  an  anxious  eye  into  the 
eternal  world ;  this  was  the  Spirit  calling  a  wayward 
child.  If  his  calls  have  been  less  frequent  as  you 
have  advanced  in  life,  it  is  because  you  did  not  im- 
prove the  first.  If  they  have  been  less  frequent, 
see  you  to  that.  But  they  are  with  you  still  in  this 
day  of  the  Spirit's  power.  Fail  not  to  improve 
them  now.     What  infinite  ingratitude  would  be  in- 


THE    SPIRIT.  615 

volved  in  such  a  failure !  What  danger  that  it  would 
grieve  him  away  to  return  no  more ! 

I  stop  to  exclaim,  What  evidence  have  we  of  the 
deep-rooted  depravity  of  the  human  heart !  It  is  a 
shame  to  man  that  there  ever  was  need  of  a  second 
word  to  persuade  one  of  our  race  to  love  the  blessed 
God :  how  much  more,  that  all  entreaties  and  means 
are  insufficient,  and  that  there  is  need  of  the  special 
interposition  of  the  Spirit.  But, — "hear,  O  hea- 
vens and  give  ear,  O  earth !" — the  sinner  turns  upon 
his  heavenly  helper  as  though  he  was  an  enemy, 
and  resists  to  the  last.  The  Spirit  pleads  and  ex- 
postulates, but  all  is  to  a  senseless  block  ;  and  the 
ungrateful  rebel  would  hold  out  forever  if  not  con- 
quered by  superior  power.  And  even  after  he  is 
conquered,  all  that  remains  of  the  old  man  conti- 
nues to  resist,  and  the  poor  backward  creature  must 
be  carried  all  the  way  to  heaven  in  the  arms  of 
another.  It  is  a  wonder  that  the  Spirit  does  not 
grow  weary  of  his  wayward  charge.  But  so  it  is : 
he  never  forsakes  the  soul  he  has  begun  to  sanc- 
tify ;  nor  does  the  soul  forsake  its  opposition  any 
faster  than  it  is  subdued.  And  even  in  the  last 
struggles  of  nature,  this  sinful  conflict  still  conti- 
nues. On  the  borders  of  heaven,  in  distinct  view 
of  eternal  glory,  the  soul  still  resists  j  and  if  left 
to  itself,  from  that  opening  dawn  of  immortality 
would  sink  into  a  devil. 

This  is  not  a  description  of  a  soul  of  the  baser 
sort,  but  of  every  one  that  ever  descended  from 
Adam*     Who  that  reflects  on  this,  "  does  not  blush 


516  aUENCH    NOT 

and  hang  his  head  to  think  himself  a  man  ?"  And 
yet  some  deem  it  a  pity  to  degrade  human  nature 
by  a  hint  of  total  depravity ;  while  others  plead  this 
very  obstinacy  as  their  excuse  for  not  loving  God. 
Awakened  sinners,  you  have  been  resisting  the 
Spirit  all  your  days,  but  never  probably  with  so 
much  guilt  and  danger  as  now.  Self-righteousness 
often  whispers  to  you  that  you  are  now  doing  some- 
thing more  acceptable  to  God;  but  you  have  never 
done  any  thing  but  resist  the  Spirit  with  the  whole 
strength  of  your  soul,  except  the  mere  outward 
form.  What  wonder  that  the  heavenly  visiter  has 
not  left  you  forever  !  Some  of  you,  in  all  proba- 
bility, will  continue  to  resist  until  he  is  gone, — gone 
perhaps  to  return  no  more ;  and  then  you  will 
mourn  out  a  whole  eternity  that  you  threw  away 
the  infinite  price  in  your  hands.  Some  of  you  will 
probably  in  a  few  days  be  more  stupid  than  you 
ever  were  before ;  for  you  never  can  again  be  as 
you  have  been :  you  must  be  better  or  worse.  And 
if  you  die  impenitent,  your  whole  eternity  will  be 
more  wretched  for  the  call  you  are  now  slighting. 
Perhaps  some  of  you  have  less  feeling  than  you 
have  had.  This  looks  as  if  the  Spirit  was  depart- 
ing. Take  the  alarm.  If  salvation  is  not  to  be 
forever  relinquished,  take  the  alarm.  Your  all  is  at 
stake.  Your  condition  was  never  so  critical  before. 
Hasten  to  a  Saviour's  feet.  Whatever  be  your 
state  of  mind,  hasten  to  a  Saviour's  feet.  Put  away 
that  horrid  resistance  which  you  have  always  made 
to  the  divine  Spirit.     Submit  to  God  without  delay. 


THE    SPIRIT.  517 

Go  not  over  that  threshold  until  you  have  given  him 
your  heart  and  devoted  to  him  your  life.  How  long 
halt  ye  between  two  opinions  ?  God  is  now  wait- 
ing for  your  decision.  What  is  your  answer? 
Will  you  believe  and  live,  or  will  you  disbelieve  and 
die?  You  alone  must  determine  that  ponderous 
question.    I  leave  you  to  make  the  great  decision. 


SERMON  XVr. 


EXHORTATION  TO  SERVE  THE  LORD, 


Detjt.  X.  12. 


And  now,  Israel,  what  doth  the  Lord  thy  God  require  of  thee,  but  to 
fear  the  Lord  thy  God,  to  walk  in  all  his  ways,  and  to  love  him,  and  to 
serve  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart  and  with  all  thy  soul- 

Complaints  are  often  made  against  the  ministers 
of  Christ  that  their  preaching  is  too  close  and  pun- 
gent. I  sincerely  wish  that  the  world  might  once 
see  what  discourses  the  eternal  God  would  himself 
deliver  should  he  undertake  to  preach  to  men. — 
What  do  I  say?  He  has  published  a  volume  of 
discourses,  and  they  have  been  more  harshly  treat- 
ed than  any  of  the  sermons  of  his  ministers.  The 
words  which  I  have  read  were  taken  from  a  sermon 
which  God  delivered  in  tones  of  awful  grandeur 
from  Mount  Sinai,  or  else  through  the  medium  of 
Moses.  If  it  seem  hard  to  you  to  be  required  "  to 
fear  the  Lord"  your  "  God,  to  walk  in  all  his  ways, 
and  to  love  him,  and  to  serve  the  Lord  "  your  "  God 


6501  EXHORTATION   TO 

with  all "  your  "  heart  and  with  all "  your  "  soul," 
be  it  remembered  that  this  is  not  imputable  to  mi- 
nisters, but  to  God  himself.  If  any  murmur  at 
this,  /  have  no  controversy  with  them ;  I  leave  it 
to  be  settled  between  them  and  their  Maker.  Hav- 
ing often  preached  with  little  effect  myself,  I  would 
now  retire  and  leave  the  God  of  Israel  to  preach  to 
you.  I  would  stand  concealed  in  humble  awe  be- 
hind him,  while  he  delivers  his  heavenly  instruc- 
tions to  the  people.  Sermons  are  often  heard  as 
the  words  of  men.  It  is  difficult,  to  a  distressing 
degree,  to  produce  a  realizing  sense  that  the  truths 
we  preach  proceeded  from  the  lips  of  God.  In  the 
present  case  I  hope  this  difficulty  will  not  be  felt. 
Had  you  stood  at  the  foot  of  Sinai  and  heard  the 
trumpet  and  the  thunders,  and  heard  the  words  of 
our  text  issuing  from  the  thick  darkness,  you  would 
not  have  doubted  that  they  came  from  God.  But 
they  were  heard  in  substance  by  a  million  of  people, 
who  trembled  and  fled  as  these  sentiments  were 
poured  upon  their  ears  from  the  burning  mount. 
And  now,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  three  thou- 
sand years,  it  is  still  as  true  as  ever  that  they  pro- 
ceeded from  the  lips  of  God.  Receive  them  there- 
fore with  as  much  veneration  as  though  a  throne 
were  set  in  this  house,  and  the  God  of  glory  were 
seated  on  it,  and  these  words  were  sounded  from 
his  divine  lips.  "And  now,"  my  people,  "what  doth 
the  Lord"  your  "God  require  of"  you,  "but  to 
fear  the  Lord"  your  "  God,  to  walk  in  all  his  ways, 
and  to  love  him,  and  to  serve  the  Lord"  your  "  God 
with  all"  your  "  heart  and  with  all"  your  "  soul  ?" 


SERVE    THE    LORD.  521 

Who  obeys  this  command  ?  A  part  of  my  hear- 
ers obey  it  in  some  degree.  They  esteem  God 
above  every  other  object.  They  consider  his  glory 
as  their  highest  interest,  and  communion  with  him 
as  their  supreme  happiness.  They  would  sooner 
forget  father  and  mother  than  forget  him.  It  is 
their  greatest  grief  that  their  treacherous  hearts  are 
so  prone  to  wander  from  him.  Their  most  fervent 
desires  pant  after  him.  And  when  in  a  favored 
hour  they  find  him  whom  their  "  soul  loveth,"  they 
hold  him  fast  and  will  not  let  him  go.  I  have  no 
reproaches  for  these.  It  is  our  Master's  will  that 
we  should  speak  kindly  to  them  and  encourage 
them  in  his  name.  But  are  all  such?  Would  to 
God  all  were.  But  charity  herself  would  blush 
should  we  so  far  profane  her  sacred  office  as  to 
lend  her  sanction  to  such  an  opinion.  Charity  her- 
self must  fear  that  in  such  a  congregation  as  this 
there  are  many  who  have  never  yielded  any  service 
to  God.  Yet  in  most  cases  it  is  diflicult  to  fix  the 
charge  where  it  ought  to  lie.  So  superficial  are 
men's  ideas  of  God's  service,  that  they  often  think 
themselves  his  servants  merely  because  they  have 
been  baptised,  and  attend  public  worship,  and  are 
charitable  to  the  poor,  and  free  from  scandalous  vi- 
ces. But  there  is  no  service  without  love.  "Love  is 
the  fulfilling  of  the  law."  "  Good,"  you  say,  "  and 
/  love  the  Lord.  I  should  be  very  sorry  not  to 
love  so  bountiful  nnd  good  a  God."  Do  you  in- 
deed ?  Do  you  indeed  ?  Let  us  see.  '*  If  any  man 
love  the  world,  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in 
him."  "  No  man  can  serve  two  masters :  for  either 
Vol.  I.  66 


522  EXHORTATION     TO 

he  will  hate  the  one  and  love  the  other,  or  else  he 
will  hold  to  the  one  and  despise  the  other  :  ye  can- 
not serve  God  and  mammon."  There  is  no  love  to 
God  which  is  not  habitually  supreme.  For  though 
love  enough  to  give  a  cup  of  cold  water  constitutes 
a  disciple,  none  are  disciples  but  those  who  love 
Christ  supremely.  "  If  any  man  come  to  me  and 
hate  not  his  father  and  mother,  and  wife  and  child- 
ren, and  brethren  and  sisters,  yea  and  his  own  life 
also,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple." 

Supreme  love  to  God  will  certainly  produce  self- 
denial  for  his  sake.  It  will  habitually  avoid  every 
thing  which  he  has  forbidden,  and  obey,  not  a  part, 
but  all  his  commands.  He  that  offends  "  in  one 
point,"  knowingly  and  habitually,  "  is  guilty  of  all." 
Supreme  love  will  seek  communion  with  its  object 
more  than  any  worldly  pleasure.  It  will  pant  after 
him  and  after  greater  conformity  to  him;  it  will 
seek  his  glory  as  the  highest  interest ;  it  will  count 
him  the  most  desirable  portion;  it  will  delight  in 
thinking  of  him  more  than  in  any  worldly  thoughts ; 
it  will  delight  in  prayer, — will  renounce  the  world 
and  idols  and  cultivate  a  heavenly  mind.  Unless 
we  have  that  which  will  produce  all  these  effects, 
we  have  no  supreme  love  to  God  ;  and  if  we  have 
no  supreme  love,  we  have  no  love  at  all ;  and  if  we 
have  no  love,  as  there  is  no  neutral  state,  we  are 
his  enemies.  "He  that  is  not  with  me  is  against 
me,  and  he  that  gathereth  not  with  me  scattereth 
abroad."  As  humiliating  as  the  thought  is,  we 
know  that  no  man  is  otherwise  than  God's  enemy 
until  he  is  born  again.     "  The  carnal  mind  is  en- 


SERVE    THE    LORD.  523 

mity  against  God."  Hence  it  is  that  so  many  peo- 
ple who  attend  pubhc  worship  and  lead  regular 
lives,  are  unmindful  of  God  from  day  to  day,  ne- 
glect prayer,  put  eternal  things  out  of  view,  and 
lose  themselves  in  the  eager  pursuit  of  the  world. 
They  must  be  conscious,  if  they  will  but  reflect, 
that  the  world  engages  more  of  their  care  than  God 
or  their  souls,  and  is  of  course  their  supreme  deity. 
They  must  be  conscious  that  the  sabbath  is  a  bur- 
den unless  devoted  to  sloth  or  amusement, — that 
prayer  is  a  burden, — that  religious  society  is  a  bur- 
den,— that  the  thoughts  of  God  which  sometimes 
intrude  are  unwelcome, — that  the  divine  service  is 
not  agreeable  to  their  taste, — that  they  would  rather 
be  employed  in  business  or  pleasure  than  in  reli- 
gion, in  reading  an  amusing  story  than  in  searching 
the  Scriptures.  Surely  such  people  do  not  love 
God.  Such  minds  could  not  be  happy  in  heaven  if 
admitted  to  the  place.  They  must  undergo  a  radi- 
cal change  or  certainly  they  can  find  no  happiness 
beyond  the  grave.  Ah  Lord  God,  how  many  such 
are  to  be  found  among  us, — among  the  dearest 
friends  of  our  hearts.  It  is  distressing  to  look 
through  our  congregations  and  see  how  men  ne- 
glect God ;  how  they  live  without  him  in  the  world, 

Hve  as  though  there  were  no  God.     Is  there  no 

remedy  for  our  lost  brethren  ?  Will  nothing  awa- 
ken them  to  their  duty  and  danger  ?  The  necessity 
of  making  some  attempt  to  rouse  them  is  so  press- 
ing, that  I  trust  christians  will  excuse  me  if  I  turn 
my  attention  altogether  to  these.     Let  them  stand 


524  EXHORTATION    TO 

by  and  assist  me  with  their  prayers,  while  I  attempt 
to  recall  from  death  this  interesting  multitude. 

Come,  my  unhappy  friends,  and  let  us  reason  to- 
gether. Lend  your  whole  attention  while  one  who 
hopes  he  is  a  friend  to  both  parties,  makes  an  hum- 
ble attempt  to  reconcile  you  to  your  Maker.  It  is 
not  an  enemy  you  hear ;  not  one  who  would  need- 
lessly disturb  your  peace.  God  knows  I  wish  you 
nothing  but  happiness  in  time  or  eternity ;  and  if 
the  present  address  might  be  the  instrument  of  mak- 
ing you  all  blest,  I  should  account  this  the  happiest 
da}^  of  my  life.  But  in  what  language  shall  I  ad- 
dress you  ?  What  new  arguments  shall  I  set  before 
you  ?  The  enemy  of  God  in  your  breast  has  re- 
sisted so  many  sermons,  that  those  who  love  you 
are  afraid  that  nothing  will  ever  avail.  O  when 
shall  it  once  be?  Would  God  that  this  might  be 
the  sermon.  But  so  many  better  discourses  have 
been  lost  upon  you,  that  I  tremble  for  the  fate  of 
this.  The  longer  you  hear  without  improvement 
the  longer  you  may.  Every  resisted  sermon  ren- 
ders future  resistance  more  easy  and  certain.  And 
this  very  address,  unless  it  softens  will  harden  you ; 
unless  it  proves  a  "  savour  of  life,"  will  become  a 
"  savour  of  death."— Shall  I  stop  or  shall  I  pro- 
ceed ? 1  must  proceed ;  but  first  let  me  en- 
treat you  to  lift  one  earnest  prayer  to  God  that  he 
would  carry  the  truth  home  to  your  hearts.  You 
may  have  sometimes  complained  that  your  fears, 
rather  than  your  reason,  were  addressed.  You 
shall  have  no  cause  for  this  complaint  now.  I  mean 
to  appeal  to  your  understandings  and  to  treat  you 


SERVE    THE    LORD.  525 

like  rational  beings.  For  such  indeed  you  are, — 
rational  beings,  endowed  with  Godlike  facuhies, 
capable  of  enjoying  and  adorning  the  heavenly 
city ;  infinitely  too  precious  to  be  lost  and  devoted 
to  eternal  blasphemy  and  pain. 

The  great  reason  of  your  insensibility  is,  that 
under  the  stupifying  influence  of  unbelief,  you  have 
secretly  doubted  whether  there  is  a  God,  or  if  there 
is,  whether  you  have  any  thing  to  do  with  him  or 
he  with  you.  The  thought  has  lurked  in  your 
heart,  that  if  there  is  a  God,  he  is  so  far  from  you, 
and  so  unconnected  with  you,  that  you  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  him  than  with  an  inhabitant  of  ano- 
ther planet.  You  have  never  conceived  that  you 
owed  him  your  whole  heart  and  life.  But  now  for 
God's  sake  attend. 

"  What  dost  thou  here,  Elijah  ?"  Child  of  dust, 
what  dost  thou  here  in  this  world  ?  Who  sent  j  ou 
hither  ?  and  for  what  end  ?  You  are  conscious  that 
you  did  not  create  yourself,  and  your  parents  know 
that  they  did  not  create  you.  It  was  God  that  made 
you  what  you  are,  and  put  you  into  a  world  which 
he  had  richly  furnished  for  your  use.  Have  you 
nothing  to  do  with  him  or  he  with  you  ?  You  are 
absolutely  his  property,  and  he  is  your  Lord  and 
Master,  and  has  a  right  to  you  and  to  the  use  of  all 
your  talents.  What  was  the  precise  end  for  which 
he  sent  you  into  the  world  ?  I  wish  to  draw  your 
attention  to  this  single  point :  for  I  am  persuaded 
that  if  this  one  consideration  could  be  fastened  on 
your  mind,  you  would  be  convinced  that  you  have 
neglected  the  great  end  of  your  being.     Do  you 


526  EXHORTATION    TO 

imagine  that  he  created  you  and  raised  you  so  much 
above  the  brutes,  and  put  you  into  a  world  on  which 
he  had  expended  so  much  labor,  that  you  might 
wander  from  him  into  the  regions  of  darkness  ? 
that  you  might  seek  your  happiness  out  of  him,  and 
live  in  rebellion  against  him  ?  that  you  might  spend 
your  life  only  in  preparing  to  live  in  this  transitory 
state  ?  or  that  you  might  live  only  to  eat  and  drink  ? 
The  latter  the  brutes  are  fitted  to  do  ;  but  can  you 
imagine  that  you  have  no  higher  end  than  they  ? 
Indulge  no  such  fatal  mistake.  As  God  is  true,  he 
sent  you  into  his  world  for  the  same  end  that  a  mas- 
ter sends  a  servant  into  his  vineyard, — to  labor  for 
him.  The  sole  reason  that  you  are  in  this  world 
rather  than  not  here,  is  that  you  may  have  an  op- 
portunity to  serve  and  enjoy  God.  He  has  sent 
you  into  the  field  abundantly  furnished  with  powers 
and  means  to  serve  him,  and  has  strictly  command- 
ed you  to  use  these  talents  in  his  service.  Say  not 
that  he  is  too  far  above  you  to  be  apprehended. 
He  has  brought  himself  down  and  spread  himself 
out  before  you  in  his  works  and  word,  and  it  is  only 
to  unbelief  that  he  is  invisible.  As  your  Proprietor 
and  Master,  he  has  a  right  to  expect  that  all  your 
time  and  talents,  all  your  wealth  and  influence, 
should  be  consecrated  to  his  service ;  that  your  af- 
fections should  all  be  engaged  for  him  ;  that  every 
motive  and  aim  should  be  "  holiness  to  the  Lord ;" 
that  "  whether"  you  "  eat  or  drink  or  whatsoever" 
you  "  do,"  you  should  "  do  all  to"  his  "  glory  j" 
that  this  should  be  the  general  scope  of  every  ac- 
tion and  the  leading  care  of  every  hour. 


SERVE    THE    LORD.  627 

Having  sent  you  into  his  vineyard,  lie  looks  alter 
you  to  see  whether  you  are  faithful  or  not.     Has 
he  nothing  to  do  with  you '(     His  eyes  are  upon  you 
every  moment, — upon   the   very   bottom   of  your 
heart.     They  follow  you   wherever  you   go,   and 
mark  you  out  and  contemplate  all  you  do,  as  though 
you  were  the  only  object  of  his  attention  in  the  uni- 
verse.    The  fixed  design  for  which  they  follow  you 
is,  to  observe  whether  you  perform  or  neglect  the 
great  business  for  which  he  sent  you  into  the  world. 
Dream  not  that  he  is  too  distant  to  concern  himself 
with  you  ',  he  is  "  not  far  from  every  one  of  us." 
He  is  by  your  side  and  on  the  very  seat  with  you 
this  moment.     Has  he  nothing  to  do  with  you  ?     In 
him  you  "  live  and  move  and  have"  your  "  being." 
For  so  many  years  he  has  sustained  you  out  of  hell, 
and  suffered  you  to  live  on  his  earth  and  breathe 
his  air.     And  why  is  all  this  ?     I  beseech  you  to 
consider  the  end  for  which  he  has  done  all  this  for 
you.     Why  do  you  feed  and  clothe  your  indented 
servant  ?     It  is  that  he  may  not  die  but  live  and  la- 
bor for  you.     And  what  w^ould  you  think,  if,  while 
living  at  your  expense  and  sharing  your  kindness, 
he  should  altogether  neglect  your  service  t     Should 
you  assign  him  his  task  for  a  certain  day  in  the 
field,  and  lie  behind  the  hedge  and  watch  him,  and 
see  him  all  day  long  doing  nothing  but  wasting  your 
property,  what  would  be  your  feelings  towards  that 
servant  ?     God  has  sent  you  into  his  field, — has  so- 
lemnly charged  you  to  be  faithful  to  him,— has  sup- 
ported your  life,— has  fed  and  clothed  you,— and 
from  his  invisible  scat  has  kept  his  eye  upon  you 


528  EXHORTATION    TO 

through  all  the  day  of  life ;  and  now  the  day  is 
drawing  to  a  close,  and  you  have  not  yet  begun 
your  work,  but  have  been  only  marring  his  estate. 
And  now  you  are  about  to  return  from  the  field 
with  nothing  done,  to  give  in  your  account  to  your 
Master.  And  what,  in  the  name  of  eternal  justice, 
will  your  account  be  ?  How  will  your  Master  re- 
ceive you?  Ah  think  of  it;  it  will  be  a  serious 
hour. 

Your  Lord  and  Master,  having  sent  you  into  his 
world  to  serve  him, — having  sustained  you  from 
year  to  year,  with  great  expense  and  care,  and  kept 
you  from  the  eternal  pit,  for  the  express  purpose 
that  you  might  live  and  labor  for  him ;  has  added 
one  mercy  more  which  has  astonished  heaven  and 
earth.  At  the  expense  of  the  life  of  his  own  Son 
he  has  redeemed  you  from  death.  And  why  was 
all  this  ?  For  no  other  purpose  than  that  you  might 
yet  live  and  labor  for  him.  He  has  plied  you  with 
the  means  of  grace, — has  followed  you  with  calls, 
— has  offered  to  pardon  the  past  if  you  will  only 
be  faithful  in  future, — has  waited  upon  you  and  la- 
bored with  you,  with  so  much  pains,  for  so  many 
years,  under  so  many  discouragements,  to  see  if 
you  would  not  at  length  feel  some  ingenuous  com- 
punctions and  return  to  his  service ;  and  yet,  to  the 
shame  of  all  creation,  you  refuse  to  serve  him  still. 
These  amazing  kindnesses  have  well  entitled  him  to 
the  appellation  of  Father.  He  is  your  Father,  and 
as  such  you  owe  him  honor.  He  is  your  Redeemer, 
and  as  such  you  owe  him  the  tenderest  thanks  that 
a  grateful  heart  can  render.     And  have  you  nothing 


SERVE    THE    LORD.  529 

to  do  witli  him  ?  Is  he  so  distant  and  unconnected 
with  you,  that  you  have  no  cause  to  move  a  tlioiiffht 
towards  him  ?  Better  to  say  that  the  inmost  fil)re 
of  your  heart  is  a  stranger  and  foreigner.  Better 
to  sever  the  bonds  of  nature  and  turn  off  your  dear- 
est friends  as  outcasts  from  your  love. 

Did  your  Creator  turn  you  loose  into  the  world, 
to  run  wild  in  pursuit  of  your  own  imaginations, 
without  law  or  restraint,  intending  to  look  no  fur- 
ther after  you,  but  to  throw  you  out  from  his  care  ? 
Wo  to  you  if  he  had  done  this  ;  though  this,  I  fear, 
you  have  often  wished.  But  he  did  no  such  thing. 
His  intention  was  still  to  follow  you  with  his  cares, 
as  beloved  creatures  whom  his  own  hands  had  form- 
ed,— to  exercise  government  over  you, — to  esta- 
blish eternal  communion  with  you, — to  lead  your 
desires  up  to  him, — to  fill  you  Avith  his  own  sublime 
happiness,  and  to  make  you  a  part  of  an  harmoni- 
ous, blessed,  and  glorious  kingdom.  To  accom- 
plish these  ends  he  put  you  under  law, — a  law  ad- 
mirably calculated  to  unite  you  to  him  and  to  con- 
summate your  happiness.  As  he  is  infinitely  the 
greatest  and  best  of  beings,  whom  no  man  can  hate 
and  be  happy;  who,  in  order  to  an  harmonious 
kingdom,  must  be  acknowledged  as  the  Head,  and 
must  be  the  centre  of  affection  and  the  great  bond 
of  attraction  ;  therefore  he  has  commanded  all  his 
rational  creatures  to  love  him  supremely.  In  this 
he  has  required  no  more  than  was  his  due,  and  the 
very  least  that  it  was  for  his  honor  to  accept.  In- 
deed he  has  conferred  an  infinite  favor  on  creatures 
by  making  a  law  so  essential  to  public  order,  and 

Vol.  1.  67 


530  EXHORTATION    TO 

pointing  out  the  only  way  to  individual  happiness. 
The  unreasonable  will  complain  of  anything,  and 
murmurs  have  filled  the  world  because  this  law  re- 
quires the  heart.  But  were  it  otherwise, — were 
God  to  relinquish  his  claims  on  the  heart  and  com- 
pound for  outward  service  only,  would  it  be  better 
then  ?  Could  they  be  happy  here,  could  they  be 
happy  in  heaven,  without  a  holy  heart  ?  They  had 
better  never  been  born  than  be  excused  from  loving 
God.  Should  God  give  up  his  law,  still  they  are 
wretches  to  eternity  without  love  to  him.  The  law 
enjoins  nothing  but  what  in  the  nature  of  things  is 
essential  to  happiness.  Have  you  nothing  to  do 
with  God  or  he  with  you  ?  You  have  forgotten 
that  you  are  subjects  under  law,  bound  by  all  the 
authority  of  Jehovah.  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord 
thy  God  with  all  thy  heart."  This  comes  to  you 
under  the  great  seal  of  heaven.  It  is  the  express 
command  of  the  eternal  God.  Whatever  you  may 
think  of  it,  neither  the  praise  nor  the  blame  of  mak- 
ing or  publishing  it  belongs  to  men.  From  this  mo- 
ment you  must  either  renounce  your  Bible,  or  un- 
derstand that  God  accounts  you  rebels  for  not  lov- 
ing and  serving  him  with  all  the  heart  and  soul. 
He  admits  no  excuse.  Your  plea  that  you  cannot, 
is  only  pleading  guilty.  A  heart  that  refuses  to 
love  the  Creator  and  Redeemer  of  the  world,  is  the 
very  thing  for  which  God  condemns  you, — is  the 
vilest  rebel  in  the  universe. 

And  now  have  you  nothing  to  do  with  God  or  he 
with  you?  Know  ye,  my  unhappy  hearers,  that 
God  will  have  to  do  with  you  through  the  intermi- 


SERVE    THE    LORD.  531 

nable  ages  of  eternity,  and  on  his  sovereign  plea- 
sure it  depends  whether  you  shall  spend  your  eter- 
nity in  heaven  or  hell.  You  cannot  be  disconnected 
from  him  if  you  would.  You  are  in  his  hands,  and 
you  must  remain  in  his  hands  to  eternity. 

O  my  dear  hearers,  my  flesh  and  blood,  you  have 
not  sufficiently  considered  these  things.  There  is  no 
realizing  sense  of  07ie  of  these  truths  in  minds  that 
can  remain  at  ease  in  a  state  of  enmity  against  God. 
You  have  not  considered  who  sent  you  into  the 
w^orld,  and  for  what  end, — who  supports  your  lives, 
and  for  what  end  they  are  supported, — who  redeemed 
you  from  death,  and  why  you  were  redeemed.  You 
have  not  considered  what  God  has  earnestly  com- 
manded you  to  do,  and  what  connexion  you  must 
have  with  him  to  eternity.  These  things  you  have 
not  considered ;  but  God  considers  them  all.  He 
indeed  keeps  silence,  because  this  is  not  the  state 
of  retribution,  but  of  trial.  He  keeps  silence,  but 
is  angry.  He  is  angry,  and  he  will  one  day  speak. 
He  will  speak  in  a  manner  which  does  not  admit  of 
present  description,  but  it  will  be  such  as  fully  to 
assert  his  rights  and  wipe  oflf  the  stigma  which  his 
long  silence  has  occasioned,  that  he  is  '•  altogether 
such  a  one  as"  yourselves.  He  will  take  account 
of  his  servants  to  whom  he  committed  the  talents. 
"  Every  work"  shall  be  brought  "  into  judgment, 
with  every  secret  thing  whether  it  be  good  or— 
evil."  At  the  close  of  all  he  will  command  them  to 
cast  "  the  unprofitable  servant  into  outer  darkness : 
there  shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth." 

And  now  what  will  you  say  to  these  things  ?    Has 


532  EXHORTATION    TO 

not  every  word  been  calmly  addressed  to  your  rea- 
son, and  been  supported  by  positive  declarations 
from  the  word  of  God  ?  If  then  the  Bible  is  not  a 
a  fable, — if  it  is  the  book  by  which  you  will  be 
judged  at  the  last  day,  your  case  is  such  as  calls  for 
immediate  attention.  God  has  a  very  heavy  account 
against  you.  There  is  wrath  gone  out  against  you. 
It  behooves  you  to  get  the  sentence  repealed  with- 
out delay  by  deep  contrition  and  application  to  the 
blood  of  atonement.  Do  you  thing  it  will  answer 
for  you  to  live  any  longer  idle  under  the  very  eye  of 
your  Master  ?  At  this  late  hour  ought  any  more  time 
to  be  lost  ?  I  wish  I  knew  what  resolutions  you  are 
forming.  My  dear  hearers,  what  do  you  intend  to 
do  ?  What  use  will  you  make  of  this  exhortation 
when  you  retire  ?  Some,  I  fear,  will  think  no  more 
of  it  until  it  meets  them  in  judgment.  Others  may 
be  impressed  for  a  season  and  afterwards  return  to 
stupidity.  But  will  not  some  one  be  wise  enough 
this  once  to  believe  God  ?  O  God,  if  any  are  hesi- 
tating, interpose  and  fix  their  resolves !  Nay,  let 
not  that  thought  arise  again.  When  I  have  got  a 
little  more  of  the  world  I  will  attend.  So  thought 
Felix,  but  the  thought  was  fatal.  A  resolution  to 
postpone,  is  half  a  resolution  to  die  as  you  are. 
If  it  were  not  so  pressing  a  case,  I  would  not  be 
so  pressing.  But  you  have  souls  capable  of  amaz- 
ing happiness  or  amazing  wo,  and  they  are  now 
under  sentence  of  eternal  death.  "He  that  be- 
lieveth  not  is  condemned  already."  Can  a  rational 
being  rest  in  such  a  state  ?  You  see  also  what  press- 
ing claims  your  Creator  and  Redeemer  has  upon 


SERVE    THE    LORD.  633 

you.  Most  of  you  would  be  agonized  at  the  thought 
of  defrauding  one  of  your  fellow  men.  But  will 
you  be  scrupulous  to  "  render — unto  Cesar  the 
things  which  are  Cesar's,"  and  feel  no  concern  to 
render  "  unto  God  the  things  that  are  God's  ?"  O 
that  this  sentiment  might  vibrate  in  your  ears  and 
be  deposited  at  the  bottom  of  your  hearts,  "  Re?i' 
der — unto  God  the  things  that  are  God''s"  Let  every 
thing  ingenuous  in  you  be  stirred  up  at  the  names 
of  Father  and  Redeemer,  and  excite  you  to  "  ren- 
der— unto  God  the  things  that  are  God's."  Then 
will  he  no  longer  frown,  but  smile  upon  you  as  dear 
children,  and  our  joy  on  your  account  will  be  full. 
Amen. 


SERMON  XVII. 


EXCUSES. 


LtTKE,   XIV.    18. 

And  they  all  -with  one  consent  began  to  make  excuse. 

In  the  parables  which  describe  the  treatment  that 
the  Gospel  receives  from  men,  the  Saviour  drew 
several  prominent  features  of  the  race.  In  one 
place  he  represents  them  as  making  light  of  the  in- 
vitation, in  another  as  getting  rid  of  it  hy  frivolous 
excuses.  A  man  made  a  great  supper  and  gave  out 
an  extensive  invitation.  When  the  guests  were 
sent  for,  "  they  all  with  one  consent  began  to  make 
excuse."  One  had  purchased  a  piece  of  ground, 
another  had  bought  five  yoke  of  oxen,  another  had 
married  a  wife  ;  not  one  had  leisure  to  attend.  At 
this  the  master  of  the  house  was  angry;  and  after 
filling  his  apartments  from  "  the  streets  and  lanes 
of  the  city,"— from  "  the  highways  and  hedges,"— 
he  lifted  his  hand  and  swore,  that  not  one  of  those 
that  were  bidden  should  taste  of  his  supper. 


536  EXCUSES. 

The  parable  plainly  presents  these  three  ideas: 

I.  That  all  rejecters  of  the  Gospel  are  prone  to 
make  excuses. 

II.  That  in  the  view  of  God  all  these  excuses  are 
frivolous  and  provoking. 

III.  That  they  arise  from  no  other  cause  than  an 
aversion  to  the  Gospel  and  an  unwillingness  to  bear 
the  blame  of  rejecting  it. 

I.  All  rejecters  of  the  Gospel  are  prone  to  make 
excuses. 

This  is  plainly  taught  in  the  parable.  The  whole 
Christian  world  are  here  divided  into  two  classes; 
those  who  accept  the  calls  of  God  and  those  who 
make  excuses.  It  is  expressly  said  of  those  who 
refused  the  invitation,  "  They  all  with  one  consent 
began  to  make  excuse."  It  was  foreseen  that  a  re- 
sort to  false  pleas  to  get  rid  of  the  Gospel  and  of 
the  blame  of  rejecting  it,  would  be  a  general  feature 
of  the  race ;  and  the  parable  was  intended  to  exhi- 
bit this  universal  feature  in  all  its  living  hues. 
What  was  foreseen  has  taken  place,  in  every  gene- 
ration, in  every  land,  in  every  house.  Wherever 
you  find  a  sinner  who  rejects  the  Gospel,  there  you 
find  one,  unless  he  is  overwhelmed  with  conviction, 
as  full  of  excuses  as  he  is  of  sin.  Besdes  those  num- 
berless pleas  which  he  urges  upon  himself,  such  as 
that  he  is  too  young,  that  if  he  makes  the  attempt 
he  shall  probably  fall  away,  that  religion  is  a  gloomy 
thing,  that  the  world  will  mock;  besides  these,  there 
are  many  excuses  which  he  keeps  on  hand  to  pro- 
tect himself  against  the  attacks  of  others  ;  such  as 
that  he  cannot  find  evidence  to  convince  him  that 


EXCUSES.  537 

the  Gospel  is  true,  that  he  cannot  change  his  own 
heart  and  it  is  in  vain  to  try,  that  he  cannot  f^et 
time  to  attend  to  the  concerns  of  his  soul,  that  there 
is  no  need  to  make  so  much  ado  about  religion, 
that  professors  are  no  better  than  others,  that  many 
of  the  doctrines  are  hard  and  are  difficult  to  be  un- 
derstood. Scores  of  such  pleas  are  heard  in  every 
house  as  often  as  you  urge  upon  the  stupid  an  im- 
mediate attention  to  religion.  They  seem  to  think 
the  pleas  original ;  but  they  have  been  repeated  and 
answered  a  milhon  of  times  in  every  generation 
since  the  Christian  era.  Upon  these  pleas  the  Sa- 
viour had  his  eye  when  he  drew  the  picture  in  the 
text.  This  certainly  ought  to  produce  a  pause,  and 
lead  to  greater  caution  in  framing  these  self-pro- 
tecting apologies. 

II.  In  the  view  of  God  all  these  excuses  are  fri- 
volous and  provoking. 

In  no  conceivable  manner  could  this  be  set  forth 
in  stronger  language  than  in  the  parable  before  us. 
After  those  who  were  invited  had  urged  the  most 
plausible  pleas  they  could  frame,  the  master  of  the 
house  was  angry,  and  solemnly  declared  that  not 
one  of  them  should  taste  of  his  supper.  If  the  pa- 
rable did  justice  to  this  system  of  excuse-making, 
it  did  not  overlook  a  single  plea  which  a  mortal 
man  can  make.  It  takes  up  excuses  in  the  mass 
and  condemns  them  all.  Not  a  hint  of  any  excep- 
tion,— of  any  privileged  plea  sent  forth  with  a  char- 
tered right  to  insult  the  Majesty  of  heaven.  If 
there  is  in  the  universe  a  licensed  excuse,  (where 
intellect  and  knowledge  combine,)  it   is  wronged 

Vol.  I.  68 


538  EXCUSES. 

exceedingly  in  not  receiving  a  broad  mark  of  dis- 
tinction. Here  the  entire  system  of  excuses  re- 
ceives a  wholesale  reprobation.  The  parable  is  a 
grand  proscription  of  them  all.  Its  title  might  be 
written,  No  excuse,  in  any  age  or  country,  for  reject- 
ing the  Gospel.  If  any  man  seriously  thinks  that 
he  has  an  excuse  that  is  worth  a  groat, — a  plea  that 
has  a  particle  of  reason  in  it, — let  him  come  hither 
and  get  his  judgment  corrected.  If  any  one  has 
wrought  himself  up  to  the  belief  that  he  is  an  unfor- 
tunate man,  under  an  oppressive  government, — that 
he  has  real  difficulties  in  the  way  of  doing  what  is 
required,  which  call  for  pity  rather  than  rebuke,  let 
him  come  and  stand  and  hear  how  the  Judge  of  the 
world  disposes  of  his  case.  Be  it  known  then  and 
remembered  that  this  trade  of  excuse-making  which 
is  driven  so  extensively  in  modern  times,  was  no- 
ticed and  pointedly  condemned  by  the  Saviour  of 
the  world.  These  excuse-makers  are  wholly  in  the 
wrong.  Their  figleaf  covering  will  not  hide  a  par- 
ticle of  their  shame.  How  could  it  be  supposed 
that  they  could  have  a  good  excuse  for  neglecting 
what  God  has  required  ?  Do  they  mean  to  impeach 
him  before  all  worlds  ?  If  there  is  a  fair  reason  for 
neglecting  an  action,  that  action  ought  not  to  have 
been  required.  But  the  question  is  about  neglect- 
ing what  God  has  required.  What  he  has  not  com- 
manded is  no  part  of  his  service  ;  but  the  question 
is  about  neglecting  his  service.  If  a  man  has  a 
good  excuse  for  neglecting  what  is  religion  in  others, 
it  would  not  be  religion  in  him,  for  it  is  not  required 
of  him  if  God  is  just.     But  if  God  has  perempto- 


EXCUSES.  539 

rily  required  of  every  man  who  reads  tlio  Bible,  to 
love  him  with  all  the  heart,  to  repent  and  believe 
the  Gospel,  to  be  holy  as  he  is  holy,  to  die  to  this 
vain  world,  to  profess  Christ  before  men,  to  pray 
without  ceasing,  to  be  gentle,  forgiving,  candid,  be- 
neficent, to  have  the  same  mind  that  w^as  in  Christ ; 
— if  all  these  things  arc  required  of  every  man,  (and 
none  who  reads  the  Bible  will  dare  to  deny  it,)  then 
no  man  can  excuse  himself  from  any  part  of  this 
service  without  impeaching  his  Maker. 

But  let  us  examine  these  excuses  one  by  one. 
You  plead  that  you  cannot  find  evidence  to  convince 
you  that  the  Gospel  is  true.  What,  after  the  wisest 
and  best  men  in  all  ages  have  examined  and  been 
convinced  ?  Have  the  wisest  and  best  been  the  de- 
luded, and  the  ignorant  and  kicked  only  in  the 
right  ?  After  millions  have  been  transformed  from 
sin  to  holiness  by  the  power  of  this  Gospel  ?  After 
the  Gospel  has  produced  all  the  real  goodness  and 
elevation  of  character  which  have  been  found  in 
our  w  orld  ?  Have  you  no  eyes  to  see  the  holiness 
and  heavenly  sentiments  of  this  book  ?  Do  you 
overlook  the  testimony  of  miracles  and  prophecies  ? 
Is  it  nothing  to  you  that  churches  have  existed  with 
these  Scriptures  in  their  hands  ever  since  the  Chris- 
tian era,  proving  the  history  to  have  been  written 
at  the  time  of  the  events,  and  to  have  made  its  ap- 
peal to  multitudes  of  witnesses  then  living  ?  or  that 
the  Jews  have  existed  with  their  Scriptures  in  their 
hands  ever  since  the  days  of  Moses,  and  could  not 
have  been  deceived  as  to  the  date  or  the  author  of 
the  Pentateuch,  nor  as  to  the  facts,  which  were  wit- 


540  Excuses. 

nessed  by  a  million  of  people  ?  Is  it  for  want  of 
evidence  that  you  do  not  believe  ?  No,  you  will 
not  search  for  hght  with  the  earnestness  and  candor 
which  the  subject  demands.  You  revolt  at  convic- 
tion, because  the  Bible  is  against  you,  and  because 
it  would  divorce  you  from  your  idols.  You  would 
believe  any  other  book  with  a  hundredth  part  of  the 
evidence.  You  are  constantly  yielding  to  proofs 
incomparably  less  in  support  of  other  histories  and 
reports,  and  in  your  daily  transactions  of  business. 

Assuming  then,  as  I  have  a  right  to  do,  that  the 
Scriptures  are  a  revelation  from  heaven,  I  come  to 
you  with  this  book  in  my  hands,  and  say  to  you. 
Thus  saith  the  Lord,  "  Repent  and  believe  the  Gos- 
pel." I  spread  before  you  the  hallowed  page ;  I 
point  you  to  the  sacred  canon,  written  with  a  pen- 
cil of  light  and  guarded  by  a  thousand  thunders;. 
"  He  that  believeth  not  shall  be  damned." 

You  say,  you  cannot  change  your  own  heart  and 
it  is  in  vain  to  try.  If  this  is  meant  as  an  excuse 
for  a  moral  agent,  it  is  saying  that  you  cannot  love, 
repent,  and  believe, — that  you  cannot  do  what  God, 
upon  penalty  of  eternal  death,  has  required,  and 
what  he  will  actually  send  you  to  hell  for  neglect- 
ing. It  is  saying  that  he  requires  more  than  you 
can  perform,  and  that  he  will  torment  you  forever 
for  not  doing  impossibilities.  It  is  alleging  that  he 
is  infinitely  the  greatest  tyrant  that  ever  appeared 
in  the  universe.  And  if  this  is  not  blasphemy,  and 
treason,  and  war  against  God,  what  in  the  universe 
can  be  ?  Still  you  plead  that  you  are  not  his  ene- 
mies,— that  you  love  him,  and  would  serve  him  if 


EXCUSES.  541 

you  could.     But  if  this  is  not  proof  of  the  deadHest 
enmity,  it  is  in  vain  to  look  for  proof  in  any  world. 
You  say,  you  cannot  get  time  to  attend  to  the  con- 
cerns of  your  soul.     That  is,  you  cannot  get  time 
to  do  that  for  which  all  time  was  given  you.     Ne- 
glect your  friends,  neglect  your  sleep,  neglect  your 
food,  but  do  not  neglect  the  service  of  God.     You 
say,  you  are  commanded  to  provide  for  your  own. 
Just  as  though  men  could  not  be  Christians  and  do 
this.     Just  as  though  Christians  did  not  provide  for 
their  own.     It  is  not  to  give  up  your  business,  but 
to  lay  your  business  on  the  road  to  heaven,  by  pur- 
suing it  with  proper  motives.     It  takes  no  more 
time  to  transact  business  with  a  holy  temper  than 
with  a  worldly  spirit.     And  as  to  the  duties  of  de- 
votion, if  you  would  spend  half  the  time  in  these 
that  you  waste  in  idle  musings,  in  unprofitable  talk, 
in  vain  amusements,  you  need  no  more.     You  can 
find  leisure  for  all  these,  why  then  not  for  converse 
with  God  ?     If  you  loved  devotion  as  you  love  your 
ease  or  wealth,  this  objection  would  never  be  heard. 
You  say,  there  is  no  need  to  make  so  much  ado 
about  religion.     What   ado?     More,  (I   suppose 
you  mean,)  than  you  make.     Now  it  is  notorious 
that  they  who  urge  this  profane  excuse,  do  for  the 
most  part  neglect  religion  altogether;  and  as  to  of- 
fering homage  to  God,  or  referring  any  thing  to  his 
will,  or  acting  from  a  regard  to  his  glory,  or  seek- 
ing his  interest,  they  treat  him  with  as  much  neglect 
as  though  they  owed   him  no   allegiance.     Tlieir 
only  trinity  is  honor,  pleasure,  and  gain.     And  is 
this  enough  ?    Is  this  so  entirely  all  that  God  re- 


542  EXCUSES. 

quires  that  more  would  be  an  unseemly  ado?  I 
care  not  how  little  noise  you  make  about  religion, 
if  you  will  only  love  God  and  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
supremely,  and  your  neighbor  as  yourself.  This 
is  all  I  ask.  Is  this  too  much  ?  Is  this  making  an 
unreasonable  ado  about  religion  ?  Without  as  much 
as  this,  can  you  hope  to  escape  the  rebukes  of  your 
Judge  ? 

You  plead  that  professors  of  religion  are  no  bet- 
ter than  others.  And  what  is  that  to  you?  You 
are  not  to  take  your  law  from  professors.  Admit 
that  you  can  find  hypocrites  in  the  Church:  this  is 
no  more  than  what  the  Bible  taught  you  to  expect. 
That  states  that  tares  grow  in  every  field.  False 
professors  only  confirm  the  Scripture  testimony. 
But  the  question  is,  does  the  Bible  form  characters 
no  better  than  other  men  ?  You  dare  not  say  that. 
You  know  the  hohness  of  that  book,  or  you  would 
not  hate  it  as  you  do.  For  shame  then  dismiss 
your  cavils ;  which  to  say  the  least,  are  both  cap- 
tious and  unmanly.  I  know  that  hypocrites  in  the 
Church  are  no  better  than  others.  I  know  that  they 
are  worse,  far  worse,  and  more  mischievous,  and 
will  sink  to  a  lower  heli.  But  what  shall  we  say  of 
those  who  eat  up  the  sins  of  God's  people  as  they 
eat  bread  and  call  not  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord  ? 
Have  these  nothing  to  fear  ? 

You  plead  that  many  of  the  doctrines  are  hard 
and  are  difficult  to  be  understood.  But  they  are 
not  hard  or  difficult  to  holy  minds.  "  They  are  all 
plain  to  him  that  understandeth,  and  right  to  them 
that  find  knowledge."    Why  then  are  they  hard 


EXCUSES,  543 

and  difficult  to  you  ?  Let  the  Holy  Ghost  answer : 
"  If  our  Gospel  be  hid  it  is  hid  to  them  that  are 
lost ;  in  whom  the  god  of  this  world  hath  blinded 
the  minds  of  them  which  believe  not :  lest  the  lijrht 
of  the  glorious  Gospel  of  Christ,  who  is  the  image 
of  God,  should  shine  unto  them."  The  blame 
which  ought  to  attach  to  yourself,  you  cast  upon 
the  doctrines.  But  what  is  the  Scripture  view  of 
this  subject  ?  It  was  a  reproach  to  the  stony  ground 
hearers  that  they  heard  the  word  and  understood  it 
not ;  and  the  Jews  were  rejected  because  that,  see- 
ing they  saw  not,  and  hearing  they  heard  not,  nei- 
ther did  they  understand.  "  Without  understanding,^'' 
is  numbered  among  the  marks  of  pagan  depravity. 
"  Blind "  is  an  epithet  of  strong  reproach.  It  is 
the  blindness  of  prejudice,  the  sightless  eye  of  a  de- 
praved heart :  "  Having  the  understanding  darken- 
ed, being  alienated  from  the  life  of  God  through 
the  ignorance  that  is  in  them,  because  of  the  blind- 
ness of  their  heart."  The  grand  difficulty  is  that  the 
truths  of  God  are  against  you,  and  you  are  so  pre- 
judiced in  your  own  favor  that  you  cannot  see  them 
to  be  right.  Thus  a  selfish  man  whose  interest  has 
been  crossed  by  another,  can  never  see  that  other 
to  be  right.  The  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  may  be 
explained  ever  so  clearly,  but  so  long  as  they  are 
against  ijou  they  will  never  seem  to  you  consistent. 
While  you  dislike  them  they  will  always  appear  un- 
just. 

But  in  another  point  of  view  your  embarrassment 
is  altogether  from  yourself.  How  little  pains  have 
you  taken  to  acquire  an  accurate  knowledge  of  di- 


544  EXCUSES. 

vine  truth.  How  little  have  you  read  or  thought 
on  the  subject.  How  little  have  you  prayed  for 
light.  How  many  months  has  your  Bible  lain  ne- 
glected upon  its  shelf.  How  much  more  eagerly 
has  your  mind  run  on  politics  or  science  or  busi- 
ness, than  on  those  glorious  mysteries  in  which 
your  eternal  salvation  is  involved, — mysteries  whose 
grand  and  awful  heights  and  depths  engage  the  ea- 
ger study  of  adoring  angels.  You  can  compass 
sea  and  land  to  obtain  objects  gratifying  to  your 
taste.  Had  you  employed  half  the  pains  in  candid- 
ly examining  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  you  would 
not  have  been  thus  ignorant  and  complaining  that 
they  are  difficult  to  be  understood.  And  now  will 
you  take  advantage  of  your  own  wrong  and  urge 
this  wilful  ignorance  as  your  excuse  ? 

HI.  These  excuses  arise  from  no  other  cause 
than  an  aversion  to  the  Gospel  and  an  unwillingness 
to  bear  the  blame  of  rejecting  it. 

Look  at  the  parable  again.  Does  it  not  plainly 
imply  that  those  who  made  the  excuses  did  it  from 
a  reluctance  to  accept  the  invitation,  and  from  a 
desire  to  avoid  the  blame  of  refusing  it  ?  What 
else  are  we  taught  by  the  strong  resentment  awa- 
kened in  the  master  of  the  house  ?  That  they  did 
not  wish  to  attend,  is  plain  ;  and  if  they  did  not  de- 
sire to  avoid  reproach,  why  any  excuse  at  all  ? — 
Why  not  come  boldly  out  with  a  plain  avowal  of 
their  reluctance  ?  If  the  parable  has  any  meaning 
in  it,  it  clearly  supports  the  charge  I  have  made. 

But  these  two  motives  are  obvious  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  case.     If  the  excuses  which  sinners 


EXCUSES.  545 

urge  are  frivolous,  they  are  not  those  which  influ- 
ence the  heart ;  and  when  a  man  offers  reasons  to 
excuse  himself  from  duty,  which  the  heart  disowns, 
he  can  give  no  stronger  proof  of  aversion  to  the 
duty.  These  excuses  then  betray  the  opposition 
which  they  seek  to  hide.  And  they  certainly  re- 
veal an  unwillingness  to  bear  the  blame  of  refusing. 
They  are  doubtless  intended  as  an  apology  for  ne- 
glect; and  what  is  the  design  of  an  apology  but  to 
prevent  the  imputation  of  blame  ?  They  betray  an 
unwillingness  in  sinners  to  bear  the  blame  in  the 
sight  of  God, — a  reluctance  to  take  that  low  and 
guilty  place  under  his  eye  which  he  assigns  them. 
They  often  betray  a  reluctance  to  bear  the  blame 
in  the  sight  of  meyi, — taking  a  shape  which  clearly 
bespeaks  a  solicitude  to  preserve  appearances. — 
But  they  are  chiefly  prompted  by  a  reluctance  to 
feel  m  their  own  minds  the  uneasiness  of  guilt.  Sin- 
ners are  neither  willing  to  engage  in  the  service  of 
God,  nor  to  endure  the  agonies  of  a  troubled  con- 
science ;  and  therefore  they  seek  to  hide  their  guilt 
from  their  own  view  by  the  tapestry  of  their  thou- 
sand excuses.  Thus  while  they  loudly  profess  a 
desire  to  be  convicted,  they  are  strugghng  against 
conviction  with  all  their  might ;  determined  to  live 
without  disturbance  while  they  hve  without  God  in 
the  world. 

From  what  has  been  said, 

(1.)  We  see  the  wickedness,  the  folly,  and  the 
ruinous  tendency  of  all  these  excuses.  The  ivick- 
ednessj  for  they  are  prompted  by  pure  opposition  to 
the  Gospel,  and  by  a  hardened  determination  not 

Vol.  I.  69 


546  EXCUSES. 

to  bear  the  blame  of  rejecting  it.  They  stand  forth 
as  sin's  apologists  and  cast  all  the  blame  on  God. 
The  folly,  for  they  defeat  their  own  ends  and  be- 
tray the  guilt  they  would  conceal.  The  ruinous  ten- 
dency, for  they  apply  all  their  strength  to  resist  con- 
viction, and  thus  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  an 
escape  from  death.  If  they  can  succeed  the  soul 
is  inevitably  lost. 

(2.)  We  see  that  stupid  sinners  are  in  a  most 
guilty,  forlorn,  and  unprotected  state.  They  are 
stripped  of  all  excuse  and  left  naked  under  the  eye  of 
an  omniscient  God.  That  pure  and  penetrating 
eye  finds  them  without  a  covering  and  pierces  them 
through  and  through.  Not  one  word  of  apology 
can  they  offer  for  all  their  years  of  sin,  for  all  their 
hatred  of  God,  for  all  their  hardened  impenitence, 
for  all  their  stubborn  rejections  of  a  Saviour.  They 
have  no  plea  to  make.  They  must  be  "speech- 
less." They  must  bear  all  the  guilt  forever.  And 
what  a  world  of  guilt  it  must  be  when  every  extenu- 
ating circumstance  is  removed. 

(3.)  Let  me  beseech  my  poor  impenitent  hearers 
never  to  make  another  excuse  to  eternity.  It  can 
do  you  no  good.  It  will  only  betray  your  folly, 
and  increase  your  guilt,  and  ruin  your  souls.  If 
you  have  any  pity  on  yourselves,  instead  of  resist- 
ing, strive  to  increase  conviction.  Court  it  and  do 
not  repel  it.  Lie  down  under  it  and  draw  it  over 
you  with  all  your  might.  Take  all  the  shame  and 
blame  to  yourselves  and  clear  your  Maker.  In  no 
other  way  can  you  find  pardon.  You  must  be  con- 
victed thus  or  perish  forever. 


EXCUSES.  547 

(4.)  Here  then  you  stand  without  one  excuse  for 
rejecting  the  Gospel  another  moment.  Why  then 
will  you  not  accept  it  at  once  ?  Do  you  begin  to 
name  a  reason?  but  that  is  taken  from  you.  You 
have  none  left.  Do  you  say,  your  wicked  lieart  will 
not  consent  ?  But  my  business  is  with  that  wicked 
heart.  Why  will  not  you,  O  stubborn  heart,  now  sub- 
mit? Hardened  rebel,  why  will  not  ^oi^  lay  down 
your  arms  ?  If  you  have  no  reason  for  holding  out, 
why  will  you  hold  out  any  longer  ?  O  remember 
the  conclusion  of  the  parable.  He  lifted  his  hand 
and  swore  that  not  one  of  those  that  were  bidden 
should  taste  of  his  supper.  While  you  delay,  that 
sentence  may  proceed  against  you.  Remember  the 
rebels  in  the  wilderness.  You  are  now  brought  to 
the  border  of  the  promised  land.  Refuse  now  and 
you  die ;  accept  now  and  you  live  forever.     Amen. 


SERMON  XVIII. 


LET  US  REASON  TOGETHER. 


ISAI.  I.    18. 


Come  now  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Lord  :  though  your  sins 
be  as  scarlet  they  shaU  be  as  white  as  snow ;  though  they  be  red  like  crim. 
son  they  shall  be  as  wool " 

It  is  the  boast  of  man  that  he  is  a  reasonable  be- 
ing, and  it  is  his  duty  and  dignity  to  act  a  reasona- 
ble part.  God  addresses  himself  to  that  reason,  and 
condescends  to  expostulate  with  his  rebellious  sub- 
jects. Standing  with  his  commission  in  my  hands, 
I  have  it  in  charge  to  pursue  the  same  course, — to 
commend  the  service  of  my  Master  to  the  con- 
science of  my  hearers  and  to  justify  the  ways  of 
God  to  man. 

Come  then  and  let  us  reason  together.  My  busi- 
ness at  present  is  with  impenitent  sinners.  I  would 
single  them  out  from  the  crowd,  and  take  them  aside, 
and  say  in  their  ear,  "  I  have  a  message  from  the 
Lord  to  deliver  to  you.     I  am  sent  to  reason  with 


550  LET    us    REASON 

you  in  his  name  about  the  high  concerns  of  a  fu- 
ture world,  about  your  interests  a  thousand  ages 
hence,  about  the  claims  which  the  Sovereign  of  the 
world  has  upon  you,  and  the  long  score  of  uncan- 
celled charges  which  he  has  against  you."  Let 
Christians  stand  by  and  assist  me  with  their  pray- 
ers, while  I  attempt  to  recall  from  death  this  inte- 
resting multitude. 

My  poor  hearers,  you  have  often  considered  an 
address  from  the  pulpit  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
felt  no  personal  interest  in  it.  But  it  must  not  be 
so  now.  I  have  a  solemn  errand  from  the  Lord  to 
do  to  you  one  by  one.  While  you  are  suspended 
between  two  eternities,  I  have  one  word  from  the 
Most  High  to  say  to  you  before  your  fate  is  decided. 
Drop  every  other  care  ;  lend  me  your  whole  atten- 
tion ;  put  your  minds  into  a  most  solemn  frame  ; 
and  for  a  few  moments  feel  as  though  you  stood 
before  the  bar  of  God. 

Here  then  you  are,  the  creatures  of  God,  bound 
to  eternity,  and  destined  to  be  happy  or  miserable 
forever.  Raise  your  heads  out  of  this  infant  state 
and  look  abroad  on  the  amazing  scenes  before  you. 
Here  you  lie  crushed  under  the  mountains  of  guilt, 
for  which  the  God  that  made  you  has  condemned 
you  to  eternal  wo.  Did  ever  man  address  an  audi- 
ence under  more  solemn  circumstances?  Your 
case  is  such  as  calls  for  an  immediate  remedy, — a 
remedy  in  which  you  yourselves  must  be  active. 
What  then  is  to  be  done?  Will  you  lend  me  your 
whole  attention  ? 

I  have  it  in  charge  from  God  to  inform  you  with 


TOGETHER.  551 


the  utmost  plainness  what  he  would  have  you  to  do  ; 
to  tell  you  that  you  must  instantly  drop  the  wea- 
pons of  your  rebellion  and  return  to  him  with  sub- 
mission and  love, — with  a  sweet  and  adoring  sense 
of  his  perfections,  of  his  moral  government,  of  his 
superintending  providence  ;  that  you  must  renounce 
every  selfish  passion,  and  expand  the  arms  of  a 
strong  benevolence  to  embrace  the  human  family, 
friends  and  foes ;  that  you  must  fall  at  his  feet  with 
a  broken  heart  for  all  your  sins,  without  any  further 
attempts  to  justify  or  extenuate  them,  clearing  your 
Maker  and  taking  all  the  shame  and  blame  to  your- 
selves, owning  the  justice  of  your  condemnation, 
approving  the  holy  strictness  of  his  law,  and  griev- 
ing exceedingly  that  you  should  have  sinned  against 
so  much  goodness,  against  a  government  so  righte- 
ous, a  law  so  sublimely  pure  and  glorious  ;  that  un- 
der a  conviction  how  right  it  is  for  you  to  suffer, 
and  how  wrong  it  would  be  for  you  to  be  pardoned 
for  any  thing  that  you  can  do,  you  must  feel  that 
you  are  utterly  undone  and  stand  in  perishing  need 
of  a  Saviour ;  that  you  must  heartily  approve  of  the 
Saviour  which  God  has  provided  and  the  way  of 
salvation  by  him,  and  firmly  believe  in  the  divine 
sincerity  in  this  whole  arrangement,  and  choose 
that  Redeemer  for  your  own,  and  rest  your  souls 
upon  him,  and  go  to  God  through  him,  with  earnest 
cries  for  mercy,  with  humble  boldness,  growing  up 
into  filial  confidence,  that  can  cry,  "  Abba  Father," 
—that  can  walk  about  the  palace  of  God  like  a 
child  at  home,  and  admire  all  his  works,  and  cheer- 


552  LET    us    REASON 

fully  repose  upon  his  paternal  love,  his  superintend- 
ing care,  his  universal  providence,  his  everlasting 
covenant,  and  cry,  with  a  deliberate  and  lasting  as- 
surance, "  My  Lord  and  my  God;"  that  you  must 
enter  on  a  life  of  steady  devotion,  a  life  of  zeal  in 
the  service  of  God  and  his  Church,  a  life  of  univer- 
sal obedience,  shown  in  the  exercise  of  all  the 
Christian  graces  and  in  the  practice  of  all  the  Christ- 
ian virtues ;  that  you  must  die  to  this  vain  world 
and  feel  and  act  as  citizens  of  another  country, 
"  looking  for  that  blessed  hope  and  the  glorious  ap- 
pearing of  the  great  God  and  our  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ." 

This  is  the  precise  service, — the  glorious  and 
blessed  course  upon  which  I  am  sent  to  invite  you 
to  enter.  Having  delivered  this  part  of  my  mes- 
sage, I  have  it  furthermore  in  charge  not  to  leave 
you  till  I  have  set  before  you,  in  such  terms  as  the 
language  of  mortals  will  furnish,  some  of  the  reasons 
which  urge  you  to  an  immediate  compliance. 

The  great  God  has  commanded  it.  This  you  know. 
His  whole  word  is  one  system  of  precepts,  laying 
upon  you  the  different  parts  of  this  service  with  the 
whole  strength  of  his  authority.  The  God  who 
made  you  has  commanded  it.  The  God  in  whom 
you  live  and  move  and  have  your  being  has  command- 
ed it.  The  God  who  will  be  your  Judge  at  the  last 
day  has  commanded  it.  The  God  before  whose 
majesty  and  glory  prostrate  angels  vail  their  faces, 
has  commanded  it.  Will  you  withstand  all  this 
authority?     Shall  not  the  positive  command  of  the 


I 


TOGETHER. 


eternal  God  bind  you?  Is  he  not  your  Sovereign  ? 
Will  you  say  that  this  duty  belongs  to  the  Church  ? 
Can  you  escape  out  of  his  hands  ? 

And  is  not  this  a  most  reasonable  service,  worthy 
of  a  God  to  require,  and  the  very  least  tliat  it  would 
become  a  God  of  infinite  holiness  to  accept  ?  Is 
not  universal  love  such  a  service  as  God  should  re- 
quire of  his  rational  offspring  ?  Will  you  not  as- 
pire to  the  dignity  of  universal  benevolence  ?  Will 
you  not  love  a  God  of  infinite  w  isdom  and  good- 
ness, whose  only  aim  in  all  his  works  is  to  raise 
the  universe  to  the  highest  pitcii  of  prosperity, — a 
prosperity  resting,  as  the  highest  prosperity  must, 
upon  holy  order, — the  universal  exercise  of  justice 
and  love  ?  Will  you  not  love  a  government  whose 
only  care  is  to  protect  this  order,  and  thus  promote 
the  happiness  of  the  whole  intelligent  family?  How 
magnificent  is  this  god-like  law.  What  majesty  and 
glory  surround  this  sublime  and  holy  sceptre.  It 
fills  all  heaven  with  admiration  and  transport.  And 
cannot  you  think  it  a  happiness  to  be  under  the  go- 
vernment of  such  a  God  ?  Will  you  deem  it  a  hard- 
ship to  obey  such  a  law  ?  to  submit  to  such  a  pro- 
vidence? When  you  have  broken  in  upon  the 
order  of  the  universe  by  violating  this  benevolent 
system  of  rules,  will  you  think  it  a  hardship  to  be 
called  upon  to  repent  ?  Shall  you  find  it  difficult  to 
weep  and  break  your  hearts?  And  since  the  Son 
of  God  has  descended  from  heaven  to  sanction  the 
principles  of  this  government,  to  condemn  sin,  to 
pluck  you  from  destruction  by  the  sacrifice  of  him- 
self, and  to  bear  away  the  honors  of  your  salva- 

VOL.  I.  70 


554  LET    us    REASON 

tion,  will  you  account  it  a  hardship  to  accept  and 
honor  him?  All  that  God  requires  is  reasonable  and 
for  your  good.  In  no  part  of  his  administration 
has  he  given  you  the  slightest  cause  for  complaint. 
On  the  contrary,  he  has  followed  you  with  a  suc- 
cession of  mercies  which  have  affected  angels.  On 
his  arm  have  you  all  along  been  supported,  and  by 
his  hand  have  you  always  been  fed.  He  is  your 
Creator,  Proprietor,  and  Master.  He  made  you 
what  you  are  and  gave  you  all  your  talents,  and  in 
a  world  which  he  had  furnished  for  your  use  he 
placed  you,  with  a  solemn  command  to  use  these 
talents  for  him.  Is  it  not  reasonable  that  you  should 
be  his  servants  ?  that  you  should  act  in  all  things 
with  a  reference  to  his  will  ?  that  whether  you  eat 
or  drink  or  whatever  you  do  you  should  do  all  to 
his  glory  ?  Is  not  this  what  a  rational  being  ought 
to  render?  Are  not  these  demands  reasonably 
made  on  such  creatures  as  you  ? 

But  you  seek  to  excuse  yourselves  with  the  plea 
that  you  are  not  able.  And  are  you  thus  excused  ? 
What  then  will  you  say  of  him  who  would  not  ex- 
cuse you,  but  peremptorily  commanded  you  to  per- 
form this  service,  and  threatened  you  with  eternal 
punishment  if  you  refused?  Do  you  mean  solemnly 
to  impeach  him  in  the  presence  of  all  worlds  ?  In 
proportion  as  you  take  away  a  tittle  of  your  obli- 
gation and  guilt,  you  support  a  dreadful  impeach- 
ment against  your  Maker.  As  hard  as  your  heart 
is,  he  still  commands  you  to  love  and  serve  him, 
and  declares  that  he  will  punish  you  forever  if  you 
refuse,  and  actually   sends  sinners  to  hell  for  no 


TOGETHER. 


)iS» 


other  reason.  And  is  the  service  an  impossibihty  ? 
There  is  no  difficulty  in  the  way  but  that  which  con- 
stitutes the  essence  of  all  your  guilt, — a  heart  op- 
posed to  God.  If  this  rebellious  heart  may  not  be 
forbidden  and  punished,  there  is  an  end  to  all  moral 
government, — there  is  an  end  to  all  distinction  be- 
tween sin  and  holiness, — and  men  are  no  more  mo- 
ral agents  than  the  brutes  and  the  stocks.  If  you 
shrink  from  this  conclusion,  you  must  go  back  and 
admit  that  wherever  a  rational  soul  is  found  that 
knows  its  Maker's  will,  there  is  one  who  is  bound 
to  love  and  serve  God,  whether  the  Spirit  sanctify 
him  or  not. 

But  if  the  service  of  God  is  reasonable,  and  rea- 
sonably required  of  such  creatures  as  you,  why  do 
you  withhold  it  ?  If  it  is  reasonable  in  God  to  re- 
quire it,  it  is  unreasonable  in  you  to  refuse  it.  Why 
then  do  you  act  so  unreasonable  a  part  ?  You  ought 
not  to  do  it.  You  ought  to  give  him  your  heart  at 
once.  You  have  no  manner  of  excuse  for  with- 
holding it  a  moment. 

But  you  plead  for  some  delay.  "  Go  thy  way  for 
this  time ;  when  I  have  a  convenient  season  I  will 
call  for  thee."  This  is  the  very  thing  I  feared. 
Men  cannot  resolve  to  die  without  religion,  and 
strongly  attached  to  other  things,  they  cannot  con- 
sent to  enter  upon  it  at  once.  This  is  the  rock 
around  which  the  bones  of  ship-wrecked  millions 
are  whitening.  More  probably  have  gone  down  to 
death  from  a  Gospel  land  in  this  way  than  by  any 
other  stratagem  of  Satan.  The  arch-deceiver  knows 
that  if  he  should  come  out  at  once  and  boldly  tell 


556  LET    us    REASON 

men  never  to  become  religious,  his  plot  would  be 
discovered  and  defeated.  He  knows  that  "  in  vain 
the  net  is  spread  i?i  the  sight  of  any  bird."  He  takes 
a  surer  course.  He  tells  them  there  is  time  enough 
yet.  He  urges  them  to  put  off  till  to-morrow.  He 
keeps  the  phantom  of  a  more  convenient  season 
before  them,  receding  as  they  approach,  and  de- 
termines that  they  shall  never  overtake  it.  They 
see  not  the  stratagem,  and  follow  on  as  an  ox  to 
the  slaughter,  amusing  themselves  with  the  hope  of 
a  more  convenient  season,  until  they  plunge  into 
eternal  death.  Could  you  approach  the  margin  of 
the  burning  lake  and  collect  the  history  of  the 
damned  from  their  own  lips,  you  would  probably 
find  that  most  of  those  who  went  down  from  a  Gos- 
pel land  were  decoyed  to  ruin  in  this  very  way.  In 
this  same  net  your  own  feet  are  taken.  Break  that 
fatal  snare  or  you  yourselves  are  lost. 

Consider  too  the  wickedness  and  danger  of  this 
delay.  All  this  time  you  are  defrauding  your  Ma- 
ker of  the  service  which  you  owe  him.  All  this 
time  you  are  living  in  constant  rebellion  against 
God.  If  ever  you  are  bound  to  serve  him  you  are 
bound  to  serve  him  now.  If  ever  he  is  worthy  of 
love  he  is  worthy  now.  If  you  would  shudder  at 
the  thought  of  remaining  his  enemies  to  eternity, 
why  continue  his  enemies  for  a  day  ?  In  this  you 
are  going  directly  in  the  face  of  his  solemn,  earnest 
commands  and  entreaties.  "  To  day  if  ye  will  hear 
his  voice  harden  not  your  hearts."  Let  me  urge 
the  dajiger  too.  All  this  time  you  are  walking  over 
the  grave  :  and  should  you  suddenly  fall,  where  are 


TOGETHER.  W7 


you  then  ?     By  such  a  tenure  you  would  not  consent 
to  hold  your  temporal  estate  if  in  your  power  to  ob- 
tain a  better.     If  all  your  property  was  thus  expo- 
sed you  would  not  sleep.     You  would  compass  sea 
and  land  to  make  your  title  sure.     How  comes  it 
then  to  pass  that  in  the  very  case  which  calls  loud- 
est  for   anxiety,  there  you  are  the  most   secure? 
And  consider,  I  pray  you,  that  your  hazard  is  daily 
increasing.     Every  hour  lessens  the  chance  of  your 
salvation.     Your  hearts  are  growing  harder ;  your 
enemies  are  intrenching  themselves  there  ;  evil  ha- 
bits are  becoming  confirmed  ;  the  wall  of  separation 
between  you  and  God  is  growing  stronger  and  high- 
er ;  the  work  of  repentance  and  self-government  is 
growing  more  and  more  difficult;  the  Spirit  is  de- 
parting, time  is  shortening,  and  death  and  hell  ap- 
proaching.    If  then  you  cannot  now  be  persuaded, 
what  reason  have  you  to  hope  that  you  ever  will  ? 
If  you  find  it  difficult  to  turn  now,  it  will  be  more 
difficult  at  every  future  day.     You  hope  for  God's 
assistance  hereafter;  but  what  right  have  you  to 
hope  for  that  while  you  are  rejecting  the  assistance 
which   he  now  offers?     He  has  never  authorized 
that  hope.    He  has  not  spoken  of  a  to-morrow.    On 
the  contrary  he  has  warned  you  that  his  Spirit  shall 
not  always  strive  with  man.     And  his  providence 
repeats  this  warning.     So  far  as  man  can  judge, 
few  are  sanctified  after  the  middle  of  life,  and  by 
far   the  greater    part  under   the   age    of  twenty. 
With  these  dreadful  prospects  before  you  and  these 
accumulating  dangers  around  you,  what  infatuation 
to  hope  for  a  more  convenient  season  and  to  fold 
up  your  arms  as  though  all  was  well. 


558  LET    us    REASON 

Ail  this  time  you  are  depriving  yourselves  of  the 
present  joys  of  religion, — that  tranquillity  among 
the  passions,  that  peace  of  conscience,  that  delight- 
ful communion  with  God,  that  transporting  sense 
of  pardon,  that  beatific  anticipation  of  future  glory, 
which  religion  affords.  The  tempter  has  had  the 
effrontery  to  tell  you  that  religion  would  spoil  your 
peace.  And  why  did  he  not  tell  you  that  heaven 
was  a  dungeon  ?  But  ask  those  who  have  tried  her 
power,  and  they,  with  one  voice  will  testify,  that 
"  her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness  and  all  her 
paths  are  peace." 

And  for  what  do  you  lose  all  these  joys  and  sa- 
crifice your  souls  ?  For  husks  that  cannot  satisfy ; 
for  idols  full  of  tormenting  stings ;  for  a  world  of 
shadows;  for  riches  which  suflfer  not  their  pos- 
sessors to  sleep  ;  for  objects  bearing  about  this  la- 
bel written  with  the  finger  of  God,  "  Vanity  and 
vexation  of  spirit.''''  "  The  way  of  transgressors  is 
hard,"  "  and  the  way  of  peace  have  they  not 
known."  And  even  were  it  otherwise, — were  eve- 
ry anguish  extracted  from  their  hearts, — yet  what 
is  there  in  all  these  objects  worthy  to  engross  the 
supreme  desires  of  an  immortal  mind  ?  What  are 
these  to  God  and  Christ  and  heaven  ? 

What  are  these  to  the  interests  of  that  soul  which 
is  destined  to  expand  forever  in  the  regions  oHight 
and  life,  or  to  sink  eternally  under  the  anguish  of 
the  never  dying  worm  ?  O  eternity  !  eternity  !  thy 
solemnities  turn  all  the  promises  of  time  to  a  jest. 
Count  the  sands  of  the  sea ;  multiply  them  by  the 
leaves  of  the  forest,  and  the  spires  upon  the  moun- 


TOGETHER.  58f 

tains,  and  the  stars  in  heaven  ;  and  when  so  many 
ages  have  rolled  away,  your  happiness  or  your  mi- 
sery will  be  but  just  begun.  What  is  this  world  ? 
"  its  pomp,  its  pleasures,  and  its  nonsense  all  ?" 
If  I  live  three  score  years  and  ten  on  a  dung  hill, 
what  is  that  to  me  if  I  may  but  obtain  to  the  blessed- 
ness of  everlasting  ages.  If  I  spend  my  seventy 
years  begirt  with  imperial  purple  and  rolling  in  the 
pleasures  of  a  court,  what  is  that  to  me  if  after  all 
I  must  be  imprisoned  in  hell  as  long  as  the  throne 
of  God  endures. 

My  dear  hearers,  are  you  immortal  ?  Are  you 
to  spend  an  eternity  in  heaven  or  hell  ?  And  are 
you  losing  yourselves  among  the  vanities  of  this 
world  ?  Will  you  never  awake  ?  Sleep  on  then 
and  take  your  rest.  But  know  you  that  the  mists 
of  death  will  soon  gather  around  you.  You  will  be 
laid  upon  a  dying  bed.  Time  is  gone  and  eternity 
has  come.  I  see  you  lying  there  without  a  friend 
to  help  you  in  heaven  or  earth.  I  see  you  cast 
back  your  eyes  on  misspent  sabbaths,  on  murdered 
privileges,  on  wasted  time.  You  remember  the 
calls  you  once  rejected.  I  hear  you  cry,  "  I  had  a 
soul  but  prized  it  not,  and  now  my  soul  is  gone. 
Ten  thousand  worlds  for  one  more  year.  Ten 
thousand  worlds  for  one  more  sabbath  in  the  house 
of  God." — I  look  a  little  further,  and  I  see  the  per- 
turbations of  the  troubled  sky.  The  sign  of  the 
Son  of  Man  appears  in  heaven.  The  last  trumpet 
sounds.  That  body  which  had  been  committed  to 
the  grave  is  organized  afresh.  It  opens  its  eyes  on 
the  strange  commotions  of  a  dissolving  world.     It 


560  LET    us   REASON 

is  forced  to  ascend.  The  judgment  seat  is  set  in 
the  clouds  of  heaven  and  the  books  are  opened.  I 
hear  you  cry  to  rocks  and  to  mountains  to  cover 
you  ;  but  rocks  and  mountains  are  sunk  in  the  ge- 
neral ruin.  The  books  are  opened,  and  on  a  black 
page  are  spread  out  all  the  sins  of  your  life.  That 
page  is  held  up  before  a  frowning  universe. — The 
judgment  ended,  the  Judge  prepares  to  speak.  God 
of  mercy  save  me  from  that  hour !  Eternal  justice 
lowers  upon  his  awful  brow.  His  right  hand  grasps 
ten  thousand  thunders.  With  a  look  before  which 
heaven  and  earth  flee  away,  he  turns  full  upon  his 
foes  :   "  Depart, — ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire, 

prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels." But  I 

return,  and,  blessed  be  God,  I  still  find  myself  on 
praying  ground  and  my  dear  hearers  about  me. 
This  is  not  the  Judgment  Day.  But,  my  beloved 
friends,  I  expect  soon  to  meet  you  at  that  bar  and 
give  an  account  of  my  labors  among  you  to  day. 
It  is  in  full  view  of  that  awful  scene  that  I  am  speak- 
ing thus  to  you.  I  would  not  have  you  perish ;  but 
if  you  perish,  I  would  clear  my  garments  of  your 
blood. 

But  you  must  not  perish.  The  calls  of  mercy  are 
still  out.  I  have  returned  to  my  text  and  found  it 
written,  "  Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet  they  shall 
be  as  white  as  snow ;  though  they  be  red  like  crim- 
son they  shall  be  as  wool."  These  heavenly  words, 
issuing  from  the  eternal  throne,  still  mingle  their 
sounds  about  your  ears.  There  is  yet  hope.  You 
need  not  perish.  The  door  of  mercy  is  not  yet 
closed.     That  Saviour  whom  you  just  now  saw  on 


TOGETHER.  561 

the  judgment  seat,  once  died  on  Calvary.  Though 
you  have  so  long  trifled  with  his  blood,  though  you 
have  so  long  abused  sermons  and  sabbaths,  though 
you  have  ten  thousand  times  been  found  in  arms 
against  the  Sovereign  of  the  vt^orld,  yet  in  that  blood 
all  your  stains  may  be  washed  out, — all  your  treasons 
purged.  Only  do  not  now  seal  your  damnation  by 
longer  rejecting  his  mercy.  Fall  down  now  at  his 
feet.  Go  not  from  this  house  till  you  have  bathed 
them  with  your  tears  and  wiped  them  with  the  hairs 
of  your  head.  This  is  an  awful  moment.  Heaven, 
earth,  and  hell  are  now  opened  before  you.  From 
the  throne  of  God  which  is  placed  in  the  midst  the 
invitation  is  still  proceeding.  Not  man,  but  God 
himself  is  now  speaking  to  you.  If  you  turn  away 
it  will  be  like  those  who  turned  away  when  their 
feet  touched  the  borders  of  the  promised  land. 
They  could  not  be  forgiven  but  must  perish  in  the 
wilderness.  Take  care  what  you  do,  for  you  are 
now  standing  near  the  Shekinah.  Drop  the  wea- 
pons from  your  bloody  hands.  With  those  trem- 
bling arms  clasp  his  feet ;  resolving  never  to  quit 
your  hold; — that  if  he  tread  you  down  you  will 
sink,  but  that  you  will  never  leave  the  spot  till  one 
look  of  peace  assures  you  that  your  sins  are  for- 
given. O  could  we  see  you  thus  ! — Are  you  afraid 
to  go  ?  Why,  it  is  the  same  Being  that  left  the 
realms  of  glory  to  die  for  you.  Go  with  greater 
confidence  than  you  ever  went  to  an  earthly  parent. 
Go  with  all  your  sins  upon  you.  It  is  not  to  judge 
that  he  has  now  come.  He  has  come  to  heal  the 
broken-hearted  and  to  preach  deliverance  to  the 
Vol,  I.  71 


562  LET    us    REASON    TOGETHER. 

captives.  The  love  of  Jesus  looks  out  of  his  eye. 
His  hands,  bearing  still  the  prints  of  the  nails,  are 
extended  to  receive  you.  Go,  and  give  pleasure  to 
that  heart  which  bled  on  the  point  of  the  spear. 
Go  and  find  your  heaven  in  the  sweetness  of  that 
embrace.     Go  : — you  see  him  there, — O  go  ! 


SERMON  XIX. 


HOBAB. 


Num.  X.  29-32. 


And  Moses  said  unto  Hobab,  the  son  of  Raguel,  the  Midianite,  Moses' 
father  in  law ;  We  are  journeying  unto  the  place  of  which  the  Lord  said,  I 
will  give  it  you:  come  thou  with  us  and  we  will  do  thee  good;  for  the 
Lord  halh  spoken  good  concerning  Israel.  And  he  said  unto  him,  I  will 
not  go;  but  I  will  depart  to  my  own  Land  and  to  my  kindred.  And  he 
said,  Leave  us  not,  I  pray  thee;  forasmuch  as  thou  knowest  how  we  are 
to  encamp  in  the  wilderness,  and  thou  mayst  be  to  us  instead  of  eyes. 
And  it  shall  be,  if  thou  go  with  us,  yea  it  shall  be.  that  what  goodness 
the  Lord  shall  do  unto  us,  the  same  will  we  do  unto  thee. 

This  Hobab,  the  son  of  Raguel,  the  Midianite,  is 
thought  by  some  to  have  been  the  brother-in-law  of 
Moses ;  but  others  understood  him  to  be  called  in 
this  very  passage  the  father-in-law.  The  Septua- 
gint  adopts  the  latter  opinion.  Assuming  this  to  be 
the  fact,  Hobab  was  no  other  than  Jethro,  who  is 
sometimes  called  Reuel.  He  was  the  priest  or 
prince  of  Midian,  and  appears  to  have  been  a  wor- 
shipper of  the  true  God.  In  former  days,  when 
Moses  had  fted  from  Pharaoh,  he  came  into  the  land 


564  HOBAB. 

of  Midian,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mount  Sinai, 
where  he  married  the  daughter  of  Jethro,  and  hved 
forty  years.  Called  of  God  to  return  to  Egypt,  he 
took  leave  of  his  father-in-law  and  departed  with 
his  wife  and  children,  but  afterwards  sent  them  back 
to  Midian,  and  pursued  his  journey  to  Egypt  alone. 
Soon  after  his  return  to  Sinai  with  the  Hebrew  na- 
tion, Jethro  brought  his  wife  and  children  to  him, 
and  assisted  him  in  arranging  the  civil  affairs  of  the 
nation,  and  then  took  his  leave  and  returned  home. 
During  the  eleven  months  that  the  congregation 
was  at  Sinai,  Moses  might  have  frequent  interviews 
with  his  father-in-law,  who  lived  in  the  vicinity ;  and 
just  before  he  commenced  his  journey  to  Canaan, 
he  made  the  proposition  contained  in  the  text. 
Though  the  invitation  was  at  first  declined,  yet  be- 
ing pressed  it  was  not  finally  rejected ;  for  the  fa- 
mily of  Hobab  did  accompany  Israel.  From  their 
greater  knowledge  of  the  wilderness  they  were  pro- 
bably of  essential  service  to  a  nation  of  strangers 
traversing  that  trackless  desert,  and  in  the  language 
of  Moses,  were  to  them  instead  of  eyes ;  and  at  the 
close  of  the  forty  years  they  entered  the  land  under 
Joshua,  and  had  an  inheritance  assigned  them  in 
the  tribe  of  Judah,  where  they  continued  a  distinct 
family,  under  the  name  of  Kenites,  but  enjoying  all 
the  privileges  of  the  people  of  God,  until  the  Ba- 
bylonish captivity. 

While  many  in  these  days  are  joining  themselves 
to  the  Church  of  God  and  setting  out  for  Canaan, 
I  have  selected  this  text  as  affording  matter  both 
interesting  and  seasonable. 


HOBAB.  565 

When  this  invitation  was  given  by  Moses,  the 
people  of  God  had  just  separated  themselves  from 
all  the  other  nations  of  the  earth,  and  formed  them- 
selves into  a  church  state  by  the  solemn  transactions 
at  Sinai,  and  were  then   setting  out  for  Canaan. 
All  who  did  not  accompany  them  would  be  left  be- 
hind in  a  wretched  heathen  state.     A  strong  line  of 
division  was  thenceforth  to  be   drawn  between  the 
people  of  God  and  the  rest  of  the  world.     Under 
these  circumstances  it  was  the  duty  and  privilege  of 
Hobab  and  all  good  men  to  join  themselves  to  Is- 
rael, that  so  they  might  live  among  religious  ordi- 
nances, among  sabbaths  and  tabernacles,  and  enjoy 
the  presence  of  God  in  the  shekinah,  and  worship 
him  in  the  only  way  of  his  appointment.     Before 
that  day  the  true  worshippers  had  been  scattered ; 
an  Abraham  in  one  nation,  an  Abimelech  in  another, 
a  Job  in  a  third,  an  Eliphaz,  a  Bildad,  a  Zophar, 
an  Elihu,  and  a  Jethro  in  others.     And  the  presence 
of  God  had  been  manifested  in  all  places  where  his 
worshippers  had  lived.     In  one  place  he  would  ap- 
pear visibly,  in  another  in  dreams,  in  a  third  he 
would  utter   himself  from  the  whirlwind.     Before 
•  this  no  particular  forms  of  worshipping  and  sacri- 
ficing were  appointed,  but  all  the  varieties  were  ac- 
cepted.    But  now  the  time  had  come  when  God 
would  live  abroad  among  the  nations  no  more,  but 
would  confine  his  presence  to  the  mercy  seat  which 
was  to  be  established  at  Canaan.     The  particular 
forms  in  which  he  chose  to  be  worshipped  were  mi- 
nutely prescribed  ;  a  great  part  of  which  could  be 
observed  no  where  but  in  the  city  which  he  should 


566  HOBAB. 

choose  to  place  his  name  in.  His  worshippers 
would  thenceforth  disappear  from  other  countries, 
and  the  whole  world  would  be  given  up  to  pagan 
darkness;  while  the  light,  collected  to  a  point,  would 
shine  with  concentrated  lustre  among  the  chosen 
tribes.  Under  these  circumstances  it  was  the  duty 
and  privilege  of  Hobab  to  unite  his  destinies  with 
the  people  of  God  and  to  follow  them  to  the  land 
of  promise.  Thus  doing  he  would  enjoy  the  bless- 
ings of  the  Church,  and  entail  a  glorious  inheri- 
tance on  his  children,  by  bringing  them  to  be  of  the 
household  of  faith,  who  otherwise  would  be  left  in 
the  glooms  of  heathen  darkness. 

And  now,  my  brethren,  whilst  thousands  in  these 
days  are  joining  themselves  to  the  Lord  and  public- 
ly setting  out  for  the  heavenly  Canaan,  is  it  not  the 
duty  of  all  who  wish  to  serve  or  be  served  of  the 
God  of  Abraham,  to  go  along  with  them  ?  What 
countless  blessings  might  they  thus  secure  to  them- 
selves and  to  their  children  ;  their  poor  children 
who  otherwise  may  perish  for  want  of  a  father's 
faith  and  a  mother's  prayers.  They  must  either 
accompany  God's  people  or  be  left  behind  in  wretch- 
edness and  ruin,  like  what  awaited  those  who  should 
linger  in  the  fields  of  Midian. 

When  this  invitation  was  given  it  was  a  time  of 
jubilee  and  joy  with  the  Church.  They  had  just 
avouched  the  Almighty  Jehovah  for  their  God  and 
Father ;  they  had  been  graciously  received  as  his 
family,  and  were  then,  under  the  brightest  auspi- 
ces, setting  out  for  the  happy  land  given  to  Abra- 
ham, Isaac,  and  Jacob.     What  glorious  prospects 


567 


lay  before  the  eye  of  Moses  as  he  thus  addressed 
his  father  Hobab.    And  with  these  prospects  before 
him  how  could  he  bear  to  leave  so  dear  a  friend  be- 
hind ?     How  did  his  heart  yearn  to  take  all  his  kin- 
dred with  him.     His  beloved  friends  from  whom  he 
had  received  so  much  kindness  while  a  stranger 
among  them,  and  with  whom  he  had  spent  so  many 
happy  hours, — to  see  their  face  no  more, — to  leave 
them  destitute  of  all  the  blessings  of  God's  cove- 
nant!   this  was  more  than  he  could  bear.     And 
why  should  they  lose  so  much  ?     The  way  of  Ca- 
naan was  as  open  to  them  as  to  Moses.     And  of 
what  urgent  necessity  it  was  that  they  should  go  at 
that  time.     If  they  did  not  set  out  then  probably 
they  never  would  follow  after.     Never  again  would 
they  find  such  a  company  setting  out  together  for 
the  promised  land.     And  must  they  never  taste  the 
delicious  fruits  of  Canaan  and  the  spiritual  bless- 
ings of  Abraham's  seed  ?     Must  they  sink  into  the 
sins  and  perish  under  the  ruins  of  the  heathen  world? 
How  could  Moses  endure  the  thought?    In  his  eyes 
I  read  his  soul  as  he  presses  the  invitation  upon  his 
father  :  "  Come  thou  with  us  and  we  will  do  thee 
good ;  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken  good  concerning 
Israel."     What  love  and  goodness  glowed  in  this 
address.     He  wished  Hobab  and  his  family  to  go 
because  such  an  accession  to  the  Church  would  ad- 
vance the  glory  of  God,— because  he  regarded  their 
happiness  as  human  beings,  and  more  especially  as 
beloved  friends,-because  he  coveted  the  pleasure 
of  their  society ,-and  because  he  calculated  on  the 
advantages  to  be  derived  from  them  by  the  way. 


568  HOBAB. 

For  similar  reasons  do  those  who  are  setting  out 
for  the  heavenly  Canaan,  earnestly  desire  their 
friends  and  acquaintance  to  go  along  with  them. 
The  greater  the  number  the  greater  the  glory  to 
God.  They  have  also  a  sincere  desire  for  the  best 
happiness  of  their  fellow  men.  Their  benevolence, 
expansive  as  the  light,  embraces  the  great  family  of 
man,  and  would  fain  bring  them  all  home  to  their 
Father's  house.  It  is  not  in  their  hearts  to  mono- 
polize the  blessings  to  themselves.  Especially  do 
they  desire  to  have  the  friends  of  their  heart  accom- 
pany them.  What  agonizing  throes  agitate  the  bo- 
soms of  pious  children  for  their  ungodly  parents, — 
for  their  unsanctified  brothers  and  sisters, — of  pi- 
ous parents  for  their  unregenerate  children, — and 
of  pious  husbands  and  wives  for  their  unrenewed 
partners.  They  long  to  see  them  happy  after  death, 
and  they  greatly  desire  the  pleasure  of  their  reli- 
gious society  and  friendship.  As  soft  as  the  dews 
of  Hermon  are  the  delights  of  Christian  communion, 
especially  with  those  whom  the  ties  of  nature  have 
bound  to  our  hearts.  To  tread  with  them  the  plea- 
sant paths  of  wisdom,  to  mingle  our  sympathies  and 
cares  and  joys  and  trials ;  this  is  a  banquet  next  to 
the  repast  of  heaven.  How  much  is  often  lost  in 
family  circles  for  want  of  this  heavenly  fellowship. 
Another  motive  to  wish  that  our  friends  may  ac- 
company us,  is  the  advantage  to  be  derived  from 
their  counsels,  prayers,  and  watchful  friendship. 
They  may  be  to  us  instead  of  eyes.  Religious 
friendship  has  peculiar  advantages  when  shedding 
its  benign  influence  upon  the  domestic  relations. 


HOBAB.  569 

Two  lovely  sisters  walking  hand  in  hand  in  the 
ways  of  Zion  ; — a  husband  and  wife  holding  sweet 
communion  together  when  they  sit  in  the  house  and 
when  they  walk  by  the  way  ;  of  what  great  advan- 
tage may  they  be  in  supporting  and  animating  each 
other.  And  what  a  great  assistance  might  youth- 
ful companions  be  to  each  other  would  they  agree 
to  set  out  together  in  the  heavenly  course.  And 
why  cannot  such  happy  associations  be  formed  on 
the  high  road  to  Zion  ?  Why  should  parents  be 
torn  from  children,  husbands  from  wives,  and  bro- 
thers from  brothers?  Why  need  any  be  left  be- 
hind ?  The  road  to  Canaan  is  as  open  to  them  who 
loiter  in  Midian  as  to  those  who  are  on  their  way. 
And  what  opportunity  so  favorable  to  conmience 
the  journey  as  when  such  crowds  are  setting  out 
for  the  happy  country  ?  Now  they  need  not  travel 
the  long  and  difficult  way  alone.  But  the  time  will 
come  when  all  the  pilgrims  will  have  got  home,  and 
this  road  will  no  longer  be  frequented.  And  then 
the  cry  will  be,  Alas  that  we  did  not  set  out  in  sea- 


son 


There  were  strong  reasons  to  enforce  this  invita- 
tion of  Moses.  He  was  not  going  to  visit  the  in- 
clement regions  of  Scythia,  nor  the  sickly  fens  of 
Egypt ;  but  to  live  under  the  healthful  skies  of  Ca- 
naan,— in  a  country  fair  and  fruitful,  brightened 
with  cheerful  suns,  and  fanned  with  temperate  and 
salubrious  breezes.  And  God  had  spoken  good 
concerning  Israel.  They  were  to  enjoy  the  happi- 
est commonwealth  beneath  the  skies, — to  live  under 
laws  framed  by  God  himself.     They  were  to  enjoy 

Vol.  I.  72 


670  HOBAB. 

the  oracles  of  God,  the  ordinances  of  his  worship, 
the  tabernacle,  sabbaths,  and  holy  feasts ;  and  all 
their  institutions  were  to  be  stamped  with  God  and 
religion.  Their  economy  and  order  would  be, 
throughout,  a  delicious  banquet  for  a  holy  taste. 
How  infinitely  superior  to  the  motley  and  irregular 
fabrics  of  pagan  superstition.  The  God  of  the 
whole  earth  had  engaged  to  be  their  God,  to  fix  his 
residence  among  them,  and  to  sit  on  the  mercy  seat 
between  the  cherubims,  diffusing  blessings  around 
the  land,  pardoning  their  sins,  hearing  their  prayers, 
and  holding  blessed  communion  with  them.  Here 
alone  was  the  Gospel  of  peace  to  be  heard  and  the 
great  atonement  to  be  displayed.  Their  sacrifices 
and  all  their  holy  rites  were  to  be  full  of  Christ.  In 
a  word,  all  that  was  precious  in  the  manifestations 
of  God, — all  that  was  valuable  in  the  plan  of  grace 
revealed  for  the  salvation  of  a  ruined  world, — all 
that  was  glorious  in  all  creation, — in  heaven  and 
earth, — was,  in  a  sense,  to  meet  in  a  point  in  the 
Church,  and  to  dwell  among  sacrifices  streaming 
with  blood,  among  tabernacles  and  temples  and 
holy  rites  and  praying  thousands.  In  this  nation 
the  great  Messiah  was  to  appear,  with  all  his  bless- 
ings for  men.  Indeed  God  liad  spoken  good  con- 
cerning Israel.  Great  was  to  be  the  increase  of 
their  prosperity  and  joy;  insomuch  that  every  heart 
that  loved  the  Church  would  thrill  with  transport. 
Israel  was  a  name  which  should  live  in  honor  when 
all  other  nations  should  be  blended  in  one  common 
grave.  Their  prosperity  was  to  rise  and  extend 
and  lengthen,  even  through  the  ages  of  eternity. 


HOB  An.  571 

How  did  Balaam,  when  perched  on  Abarim,  inflated 
with  the  big  inspiration  and  rapt  with  the  grandeur 
of  his  subject, — how  did  he  soar  and  stretch  to 
more  than  mortal  height  when  descanting  on  the 
future  glory  of  Israel.  And  this,  all  this,  was  the 
blessedness  which  Hobab  was  invited  to  partake. 

With  increased  interest  we  shall  now  look  upon 
the  invitation  again  :  "And  Moses  said  unto — [his] 
father-in-law,  We  are  journeying  unto  the  place  of 
which  the  Lord  said,  I  will  give  it  you  :  come  thou 
with  us  and  we  will  do  thee  good ;  for  the  Lord 
hath  spoken  good  concerning  Israel."  And  when 
he  hesitated,  Moses  pressed  him:  "Leave  us  not, 
I  pray  thee ;  forasmuch  as  thou  knowest  how  we 
are  to  encamp  in  the  wilderness,  and  thou  mayst  be 
to  us  instead  of  eyes.  And  it  shall  be,  if  thou  go 
with  us,  yea  it  shall  be,  that  what  goodness  the  Lord 
shall  do  unto  us,  the  same  will  we  do  unto  thee." 
How  could  he  resist  so  tender,  so  pressing,  so  ad- 
vantageous an  offer?  What  a  fatal  calculation 
would  it  have  been  for  him  to  have  lingered  in  Mi- 
dian.  He  could  not  stay.  He  did  not  resist  the 
entreaties  of  the  prophet.  He  went  with  him.  He 
went,  and  he  had  no  cause  to  repent  it.  He  saw 
the  glory  of  Israel.  His  posterity  partook  of  the 
prosperity  of  the  nation  and  the  blessings  of  Abra- 
ham. And  this  day,  we  trust,  he  is  rejoicing  that 
he  went  with  Moses. 

And  now,  my  dear  brethren,  with  the  voice  of 
undissembled  friendship  I  would  apply  this  invita- 
tion to  every  person  in  the  house  who  is  not  on  his 
way  to  the  heavenly  Canaan.     In  the  name  and  be- 


672  HOBAB. 

half  of  that  blessed  company  who  are  bound  to  the 
land  of  promise,  I  present  you  an  affectionate  invi- 
tation to  come  along  with  them.  I  know  they 
greatly  desire  your  company.  They  would  not  mo- 
nopolize the  blessings  to  themselves.  They  would 
fain  impart  to  you  a  share  of  all  that  God  bestows 
on  them.  They  wish  you  to  partake  of  their  hap- 
piness for  time  and  eternity.  Indeed  they  know 
not  how  to  leave  you  behind.  As  they  cannot  at 
present  speak  for  themselves,  I  will  address  you  as 
their  organ,  and  wish  the  invitation  may  be  received 
as  coming  from  them. 

Imagine  that  you  hear  the  voice  of  some  beloved 
child  or  parent  or  brother  or  sister  or  husband  or 
wife,  whose  name  is  enrolled  in  the  tablet  of  Israel, 
calling  to  you  from  the  Church :  We  are  journey- 
ing unto  the  place  of  which  the  Lord  said,  I  will 
give  it  you :  come  ye  with  us  and  we  will  do  you 
good.  We  are  bound,  not  to  an  earthly  Canaan, 
but  to  the  mount  of  vision,  the  Zion  of  the  skies ; 
to  fairer  fields  than  Moses  saw  from  Pisgah ;  to  the 
land  of  the  rivers  of  life, — better  watered  than  the 
plain  of  Jordan,  more  beautiful  than  Tirzah  and 
Jerusalem,  more  fat  than  Gilead  or  the  vale  of  Esh- 
col,  more  delectable  than  the  vineyards  of  Engedi, 
stronger  than  the  castles  of  the  Anakims,  and  more 
magnificent  than  the  mountains  of  Lebanon.  This 
is  the  land  of  which  the  Lord  hath  said,  I  will  give 
it  you.  Unworthy  indeed  we  are;  yet  our  Father 
hath  suffered  us  to  hope  for  a  bright  inheritance  in 
the  heavens.  It  is  decreed  that  earth-born  worms 
shall  be  rapt  above  the  sun  and  stars,  to  fly  with 


573 


angels  through  the  upper  spheres,  and  to  expand 
in  regions  of  exhaustless  hfe.     Into  his  own  hands 
hath  he  taken  the  charge  to  carry  us  through  the 
windings  of  the  wilderness,  to  subdue  the  giants, 
and  to  put  us  into  peaceful  possession  of  the  blessed 
country.      We   hold   the   place   by   no   uncertain 
tenure.     It  is  made  over  to  us  by  a  covenant  well 
ordered  in  all  things  and  sure.     And  now  wc  ad- 
vertise you  that  our  face  is  fixedly  set  to  go  up  to 
this  Jerusalem.     Come  ye  with  us  and  we  will  do 
you  good  ;  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken  good  concern- 
ing Israel.     Yea,  glorious  things  are  spoken  of  the 
city  of  our  God.     The  most  transporting  prospects 
are  spread  out  before  the  view  of  Christians.     Eye 
hath  not  seen  nor  ear  heard  what  God  hath  prepared 
for   them   that  love   him.     For  these   enchanting 
scenes  we   are  toiling  and  pressing  forward,  and 
hope  soon  to  enter  the  portals  of  the  celestial  city 
and  leave  all  these  lower  worlds  behind.     Come  ye 
with  us  and  share  in  all  our  glory.     There  are  seats 
enough  around  the  throne  for  you,  and  we  would 
not  occupy  them  alone.     The  mountains  and  vales 
of  Canaan  are  spacious  enough  to  admit  you  and 
your  little  ones.     Heaven  is  wide  enough  for  all. 
There  is  room  enough  in  the  heart  of  God,  merits 
enough  in  Christ,  ministering  angels  enough  to  at- 
tend you.     There  is  room  enough  in  the  Church  to 
admit  you,  room  enough  at  the  table  of  the  Lord 
to  receive  you,  and  room  enough  in  the  hearts  of 
Christians  to  entertain  you.     Come  ye  with  us  from 
Midian  and  unite  your  destinies  with  the  Israel  of 
God.     Theirs  is  the  only  interest  which  will  stand 


574  HOBAB. 

when  worlds  decay;  the  only  bark  that  will  ride 
through  the  storms  of  conflicting  elements  and  en- 
ter the  blissful  haven ;  the  only  thing  that  will  rise 
unimpaired  from  amidst  the  ruins  of  dissolving 
worlds.  Come  then  and  embark  your  all  on  that 
bottom  which  supports  the  fortunes  of  Israel. — 
Unite  your  destinies  with  theirs,  to  rise  as  they  rise, 
and  to  fall  only  when  they  fall.  Come  and  take 
your  chance  with  them,  and  say  as  Ruth  did 
to  Naomi,  "Whither  thou  goest  I  will  go,  and 
where  thou  lodgest  I  will  lodge ;  thy  people  shall  be 
my  people,  and  thy  God  my  God." 

Come  ye  along  with  us.  Think  not,  beloved 
friends,  that  we  call  you  to  venture  among  dangers 
which  we  will  not  encounter  ourselves,  or  to  engage 
in  labors  which  we  ourselves  would  shun,  or  that 
we  are  pressing  a  boon  upon  you  which  we  despise. 
No,  we  offer  you  what  we  hold  most  dear,  and  what 
worlds  should  not  purchase  from  us.  We  will 
cheerfully  go  with  you  through  all  your  perils  and 
toils.  We  will  keep  by  your  side  in  every  extre- 
mity, and  will  never  quit  you  in  the  hour  of  trial. 
We  would  not  send  you  alone  through  unexplored 
ways.     Only  come  with  us  and  we  will  go  with  you. 

Come  ye  with  us  and  we  will  do  you  good.  There 
is  nothing  in  our  power  that  we  will  not  do  for  you. 
We  will  assist  you  by  our  counsels,  we  will  cheer 
you  by  our  sympathies,  and  employ  for  you  our 
prayers.  Our  heads,  our  hearts,  our  hands  shall  be 
ready  to  assist  you.  We  will  do  what  in  us  lies  to 
support  you  in  affliction  and  to  strengthen  you  in 
temptation.    We  will  watch  over  you  with  a  broth- 


HOBAB.  575 

er's  care ;  will  rejoice  when  you  rejoice  and  weep 
when  you  weep.  We  will  unite  our  counsels  with 
yours  against  the  common  foe,  and  will  stand  or  fall 
with  you.  We  will  clinch  hands  and  together  break 
through  the  thickest  ranks.  Together  will  we  con- 
quer and  together  will  we  reign.  Not  death  itself 
shall  long  divide  us.  We  here,  with  great  affection 
and  desire,  ofter  ourselves  for  your  companions  and 
assistants  by  the  way.  We  seek  and  court  your  al- 
liance. Take  us  and  we  are  yours.  W^e  freely 
confess  to  you  that  we  ourselves  also  want  your  as- 
sistance. Like  the  Hebrews,  we  are  in  a  wilder- 
ness, surrounded  by  enemies  and  dangers ;  and  you 
may  be  to  us  instead  of  eyes.  Beset  with  difficul- 
ties and  foes  we  call  for  your  assistance.  Come 
ye  up  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty. 
We  should  be  obliged  by  your  counsels,  sympathies, 
and  prayers ;  and  much  should  we  value  the  plea- 
sure of  your  society. 

And  it  shall  be,  if  you  go  with  us,  yea  it  shall  be, 
that  what  goodness  the  Lord  shall  do  unto  us,  the 
same  will  we  do  unto  you.  You  shall  take  part 
with  us  in  the  Gospel,  in  its  precious  promises,  in 
the  privilege  of  pardon,  in  all  our  consolations. 
We  will  welcome  you  to  the  table  of  the  Lord,  and 
there,  as  in  a  banqueting  house,  we  will  joyfully  im- 
part to  you  that  sacred  feast  which  we  ourselves  re- 
ceive. You  shall  share  in  our  labors,  our  watch- 
ings,  our  trials  ;  and  when  we  find  a  blossom  by  tlie 
way  we  will  not  fail  to  show  it  unto  you.  You  shall 
have  your  full  share  in  our  final  inheritance,  in  our 
crowns  and  diadems,  and  shall  reign  with  us  forever 


576  HOBAB. 

and  ever.  In  all  the  good,  for  time  and  eternity, 
which  we  receive  from  the  Lord,  you,  dear  breth- 
ren, shall  have  your  part.  Only  come  along  with 
us  and  share  our  fortunes  with  us.  Come  drink  at 
our  fountains,  repose  in  our  valleys,  and  bring  your 
little  ones  to  partake  of  our  harvests,  our  sacred 
feasts,  and  the  delights  of  our  tabernacle.  We 
shall  rejoice  to  embrace  you  as  brethren.  With 
overflowing  hearts  we  will  welcome  you  to  the  ma- 
ternal care  of  our  mother,  the  Church.  We  shall 
delight  to  show  you  all  the  rare  things  which  we 
discover  in  these  new  climes,  the  mysterious  regions 
of  Zion.  We  will  carry  you  around  and  show  you 
the  glory  of  the  temple  and  all  its  sacred  order. 
We  will  lead  you  to  Calvary,  and  show  you  a  Sa- 
viour reeking  in  blood.  If  we  depart  first,  perhaps 
we  may  become  your  guardian  spirits.  And  when 
we  have  attended  you  home,  we  will  lead  you  around 
the  upper  skies,  and  show  you  the  magnificence  of 
the  New  Jerusalem.  This  done,  we  will  choose 
out  one  common  abode  in  some  fair  immortal  field, 
and  dwell  together  like  one  soul  through  the  un- 
measured ages  of  eternity.  You  see  our  hearts 
are  ready  to  take  part  with  you  in  all  things.  Only 
come  and  be  with  us  and  we  will  be  with  you. 

And  now  who  among  you  all  will  consent,  and  this 
day  set  out  with  us  for  the  promised  land  ?  Will  none 
consent  ?  Must  we  go  alone,  and  gather  the  grapes 
and  reap  the  harvest  of  Canaan  without  you  ?  We 
confess  to  you  our  whole  souls, — we  know  not  how  to 
leave  you  behind.  Often  shall  we  look  back  and 
sigh  for  your  company.     O  gratify  our  anxious  de- 


11013AH.  577 

sires  and  come  along  with  us.  Forsake  your  idol 
gods  and  your  father's  house,  and  come  and  take 
shelter  under  the  wings  of  the  God  of  Israel. 

There  is  a  voice  gone  out ;  an  alarm  is  heard, 
that  tempests  are  gathering  over  the  land  of  Midian. 
/  see  the  perturhations  of  the  troubled  sky, — the 
fury  of  the  winds  driving  together  the  high-charged 
clouds ;  and  7iow  a  general  stillness  holds  the  pulse 
of  nature ; — dreadful  syncope  before  the  bursting 
of  the  angry  storm.  "  Up,  get  ye  out  of  this  place  ; 
for  the  Lord  will  destroy  this  city."  Vast  and  eter- 
nal will  be  the  difference  between  those  who  set  out 
for  Canaan  and  those  who  stay  behind.  The  im- 
passable gulf  will  divide  many  a  father's  house  ; 
a  parent  on  one  side  and  a  child  on  the  other, — a 
brother  on  one  side  and  a  sister  on  the  other ;  and 
what  is  most  affecting  of  all,  this  line  will  break 
the  nuptial  tie  and  forever  divide  the  husband  from 
the  wife  of  his  bosom.  Are  none  affected  at  the 
sight  of  such  crowds  setting  out  for  Mount  Zion 
while  they  are  left  behind  ?  And  why,  my  dear 
friends,  will  you  not  also  go  ?  Are  not  your  souls 
as  precious  as  theirs  ?  Have  you  not  as  much  need 
to  go  ?  Would  it  not  be  as  much  to  your  advan- 
tage ?  And  have  you  not  as  good  a  right  ?  for  all 
are  equally  invited  to  share  in  the  promised  land. 
Come  ye  then  with  us  and  we  will  do  you  good. 
And  it  shall  be,  if  you  go  with  us,  yea  it  shall  be, 
that  what  goodness  the  Lord  shall  do  unto  us,  the 
same  will  we  do  unto  you.    Amen. 

Vol.  I.  73 


SERMON  XX. 


RETURNING  FROM  THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


Ldkz,  XXIII.  47-49.» 

Now  when  the  centurion  saw  what  was  done,  he  glorified  God,  saying, 
Certainly  this  was  a  righteous  man.  And  all  the  people  that  came  together 
to  that  sight,  beholding  the  things  which  were  done,  smote  their  breasts 
and  returned.  And  all  his  acquaintance,  and  the  women  that  followed 
him  from  Galilee,  stood  afar  off  beholding  these  things. 

At  the  time  of  our  Saviour's  advent  the  sceptre 
had  so  far  departed  from  Judah,  that  all  their  civil 
affairs  were  managed  by  a  Roman  governor  set  over 
them  without  their  consent.  Though  the  sanhedrim 
was  still  invested  with  ecclesiastical  authority,  they 
no  longer  retained  the  power  of  life  and  death : 
and  when  the  chief  priests  and  elders  had  conspired 
to  crucify  the  Son  of  God,  they  could  not  execute 
their  purpose  without  the  consent  of  the  Roman 
governor. 

In  all  the  provinces  of  the  Roman  empire  bodies 
of  soldiers  were  stationed  to  keep  the  conquered 

•Preached  in  a  revival  of  religion. 


580  RETURNING    FROM 

nations  in  subjection.  These  were  divided  into 
companies  of  from  sixty  to  a  hundred  and  twenty, 
and  each  company  was  commanded  by  a  first  and 
second  centurion.  Such  a  one  was  CorneHus  of 
Cesarea.  Such  a  one  was  the  beUeving  centurion 
of  Capernaum  whose  servant  Christ  healed.  And 
such  a  one  was  the  man  who  commanded  the  ruf- 
fian band  that  insulted  and  crucified  the  Lord  of 
glory. 

The  wicked  Pilate,  who  had  been  reluctant  to 
deliver  up  an  innocent  man  to  death,  not  more  from 
love  of  justice  than  from  an  unaccommodating  spi- 
rit towards  the  Jews,  at  length,  for  fear  of  being 
accused  to  Cesar,  scourged  him  and  resigned  him 
to  be  crucified,  and  appointed  his  own  soldiers  to 
execute  the  horrid  sentence.  "  Then  the  soldiers 
of  the  governor  took  Jesus  into  the  common  hall," 
called  the  pretorium.  There  were  four  that  acted 
as  special  executioners  on  this  occasion ;  who, 
"when  they  had  crucified  Jesus,  took  his  garments 
and  made  four  parts,  to  every  soldier  a  part." 
These  four  are  thought  to  have  been  those  who 
were  with  the  Roman  lictors.  The  lictors  were 
officers  attendant  on  the  Roman  magistrates,  who 
not  only  acted  as  marshals,  but,  by  means  of  sol- 
diers under  them,  arrested  and  executed  criminals. 
But  those  who  took  Jesus  into  the  pretorium  "  ga- 
thered unto  him  the  whole  band."  That  band, 
which  we  find  under  the  command  of  a  centurion, 
was  deemed  necessary  to  keep  the  peace  and  to 
guard  as  well  as  insult  the  prisoner.  Whatever 
control  an  intermediate  lictor  might  have  had  over 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  581 

the  four  executioners,  the  centurion  is  understood 
to  have  presided  over  the  wliole  scene  of  mockery 
and  torture. 

As  our  Saviour  was  condemned  for  claiming  to 
be  the  king  of  the  Jews,  the  soldiers  laid  themselves 
out  to  insult  this  claim.  They  stripped  him  and 
put  on  him  a  scarlet  or  purple  robe,  and  platted  a 
crown  of  thorns  and  put  it  on  his  head,  and  put  a 
reed  in  his  right  hand  for  a  sceptre,  and  bowed 
the  knee  before  him,  and  mocked  him,  saying.  Hail, 
king  of  the  Jews.  And  they  spit  upon  him,  and 
struck  him  with  their  hands,  and  smote  him  upon 
the  head  with  the  reed,  driving  the  thorns  into  his 
temples.  After  this  horrid  mockery  they  took  off 
the  robe  and  put  his  own  raiment  on  him  and  led 
him  away  to  crucify  him,  bending  under  one  end 
of  his  cross.  When  they  arrived  at  Calvary  they 
suspended  him  between  two  thieves,  and  drove  the 
dreadful  spikes  through  the  live  nerves  of  his  hands 
and  feet ;  and  while  the  whole  weight  of  his  body 
hung  suspended  on  these  agonized  cords,  and  the 
chief  priests  and  the  multitude  were  scoffing  and 
wagging  their  heads,  and  the  thieves  were  blas- 
pheming, the  soldiers  insulted  him  with  vinegar 
mingled  with  gall  and  with  wine  mingled  with  myrrh, 
and  cried  in  outrageous  mockery,  "  If  thou  be  the 
king  of  the  Jews  save  thyself.''  And  when  they  had 
done  all  this,  they  let  him  hang  in  agony  and  sat 
down  over  against  the  cross  to  watch  him  and  to 
prevent  his  friends  from  coming  to  take  him  down. 

This  centurion  nmst  have  had  a  hard  and  barba- 
rous heart,  or  he  could  not  have  permitted  his  sol- 


582  RETURNING   FROM 

diers  to  treat  the  sufferer  thus.  For  though  he  was 
obhged  to  see  him  executed,  it  cannot  be  doubted 
that  he  had  power  to  restrain  their  wanton  insuUs. 
With  such  a  brutal  heart  he  brought  the  divine  vic- 
tim to  Calvary.  With  such  a  heart  he  presided 
over  the  erection  of  the  cross  and  the  driving  of  the 
nails.  And  with  such  a  heart  he  sat  down  with  his 
soldiers  to  watch  him  there.  But  while  he  sat  there 
astonishing  things  appeared.  It  was  nine  in  the 
morning  when  Jesus  was  nailed  to  the  cross.  Af- 
ter they  had  blasphemed  and  wagged  their  heads 
for  three  hours,  a  miraculous  eclipse  of  the  sun  be- 
gan at  noon  and  continued  till  his  death  at  three 
o'clock,  in  the  time  of  the  full  moon.  And  dark- 
ness was  over  all  the  land  until  the  ninth  hour. 
This  was  enough  to  draw  the  attention  of  the  cen- 
turion to  every  circumstance  relating  to  this  won- 
drous man.  And  as  he  listened  to  what  should  es- 
cape him,  he  heard  him  praying  for  his  murderers : 
"  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 
do."  This  was  such  a  temper  as  he  had  never  wit- 
nessed before.  He  further  heard  him  calmly  com- 
mit his  mother  to  the  beloved  disciple  :  "  Woman, 
behold  thy  son ;"  and  to  John,  "  Behold  thy  mo- 
ther." Again  he  heard  him  with  his  last  words 
claim  God  for  his  Father  and  resign  himself  into  his 
hands :  "  Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commend  my 
spirit."  This  did  not  look  like  an  impostor.  An 
impostor  would  not  have  remained  steadfast  during 
the  agonies  of  a  lingering  death  and  gone  into  eter- 
nity with  a  lie  in  his  right  hand.  But  behold  greater 
wonders  yet.     At  the  last  convulsion  of  the  expiring 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  583 

God  a  great  earthquake  heaves  the  mountain  and 
rends  asunder  the  rocks.  "  Now  when  the  centu- 
rion and  they  that  were  with  him  watching  Jesus, 
[to  wit,  that  barbarous  band,]  saw  the  earthquake 
and  those  things  that  were  done,  they  feared  great- 
ly, saying,  Truly  this  was  the  Son  of  God."  Or 
as  another  evangelist  says,  "  And  when  the  centu- 
rion which  stood  over  against  him,  saw  that  he  so 
cried  out  and  gave  up  the  ghost,  he  said,  Truly  this 
man  was  the  Son  of  God."  Or  as  it  is  in  our  text, 
"  Now  when  the  centurion  saw  what  was  done,  he 
glorified  God,  saying.  Certainly  this  was  a  righte- 
ous man."  He  was  fully  convinced,  and  so  were 
at  least  some  of  the  soldiers,  that  they  had  been 
mocking  and  murdering  the  Son  of  God,  and  he 
at  least  was  brought  to  glorify  God.  Considering 
the  greatness  of  the  occasion  and  the  greatness  of 
the  grace,  it  is  not  too  much  to  believe  that  that 
barbarous  captain  and  some  of  his  murderous  band 
were  subdued  by  the  side  of  the  cross  they  had 
reared,  and  washed  white  in  the  blood  they  had 
shed,  and  brought  to  cast  their  terrified  souls  on 
him  whom  they  had  so  greatly  insulted.  Astonish- 
ing grace !     Who  will  ever  despair  again  ? 

We  are  further  told  that  "all  the  people  that 
came  together  to  that  sight,  beholding  the  things 
which  were  done,  smote  their  breasts  and  returned." 
These  are  distinguished  in  the  text  from  ''  all  his 
acquaintance  and  the  women  that  followed  him  Ironi 
Galilee ;"  who,  instead  of  returning,  lingered  about 
the  spot  to  which  they  were  attracted  by  bleeding 
affection,  though,  from  the  fear  of  the  Jews,  they 


584  RETURNING    FROM 

"  Stood  afar  oft'  beholding  these  things."  Those 
who  returned  smiting  their  breasts,  had  not  come 
to  Calvary  to  weep,  but  to  enjoy  the  sight.  They 
are  described  as  "  the  people  that  came  together  to 
that  sight."  And  their  smiting  their  breasts  is  at- 
tributed, .  not  to  former  convictions,  but  to  convic- 
tions received  that  day.  They  "  beholding  the  things 
which  were  done,  smote  their  breasts  and  returned." 
John  and  Mary,  and  the  other  disciples  who  follow- 
ed him  weeping,  smote  their  breasts  when  they 
were  goifig,  but  these  only  when  they  were  return- 
ing. They  were  not  the  actors  in  the  scene,  but 
spectators ;  and  are  at  one  time  marked  as  "  the 
people  that  came  together  to  that  sight,"  at  another, 
as  "  the  people"  who  "  stood  beholding."  But 
though  not  actors,  they  joined,  like  giddy  specta- 
tors, in  the  blasphemous  insult.  "  And  the  people 
stood  beholding ;  and  the  rulers  also,  with  them,  de- 
rided him,  saying,  He  saved  others,  let  him  save 
himself,  if  he  be  Christ  the  chosen  of  God."  For 
three  hours  they  mocked,  until  the  darkness  com- 
menced. But  the  decisive  proofs  which  followed, 
of  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus,  filled  them  with  con- 
sternation for  the  enormous  sin  they  had  committed. 
It  was  not  a  few  of  the  spectators  who  thus  return- 
ed, but  the  whole  mass.  "  All  the  people  that  came 
together  to  that  sight, — smote  their  breasts  and  re- 
turned." All  had  come  to  see  ;  and  they  had  seen 
and  were  convinced.  Not  being  committed  by  as- 
suming the  responsibility  of  that  murder  they  were 
not  wilfully  braced  against  conviction,  and  therefore 
to  a  man  fell  under  the  overwhelming  evidence  that 


A 


THE    CRUCIKIXION.  595 

dropped  like  a  noontide  sun  around  tlio  cross  of 
Christ.  Being  from  that  time  filled  with  distress,  many 
of  them  were  doubtless  among  those  who,  fiftv-one 
days  after,  flocked  to  hear  the  Gospel  at  Pentecost, 
and  were  charged  with  having  "  by  wicked  hands — 
crucified  and  slain"  the  Son  of  God;  and  were 
among  the  three  thousand  who  were  pardoned  by 
the  agonies  thus  insulted.  Again  we  cry,  amazing 
grace  !  Let  no  Manasseh  or  Magdalene  or  Saul  of 
Tarsus  ever  fear  to  apply  to  such  a  Saviour. 

But  the  Jewish  actors  in  this  scene  did  not  return 
smiting  their  breasts.  They  had  sinned  against  so 
much  light  and  with  so  much  malice,  that  they  were, 
for  the  most  part,  abandoned  of  God,  and  became 
proof  against  every  thing.  After  the  darkness  had 
continued  three  hours,  they  were  still  mocking. 
When  Christ  in  his  last  moments  uttered  the  He- 
brew words  of  the  first  verse  of  the  twenty  second 
Psalm,  "Eli,  eli,  lama  sabachthani?"  one  said,  he 
calleth  for  Elias,  and  ran  and  filled  a  sponge  of 
vinegar  and  oflfered  it  to  him  to  drink.  "  The  rest 
said.  Let  be,  let  us  see  whether  Elias  will  come  to 
save  him."  And  after  all  the  miracles  that  had 
clustered  around  his  death,  they  went  to  Pilate  and 
besought  that  his  legs  might  be  broken  and  that  the 
body  might  be  taken  away.  The  next  day,  though 
it  was  their  sabbath,  they  went  to  Pilate  again  and 
said,  "  We  remember  that  that  deceiver  said  while 
he  was  yet  alive.  After  three  days  I  will  rise  again. 
Command  therefore  that  the  sepulchre  be  made 
sure  until  the  third  day."  Pilate  gave  them  leave, 
and  they  wont,  on  their  sabbath,  "  and  made  the 

Vol.  I.  7  4 


586  RETURNING    FROM 

sepulchre  sure,  sealing  the  stone  and  setting  a 
watch."  The  next  morning,  when  the  watch  came 
in  under  the  strongest  agitation  and  testified  of  the 
earthquake  and  the  resurrection  and  the  vision  of 
angels,  they  hired  them  to  perjure  their  souls  by 
swearing  that  his  disciples  came  by  night  while  they 
slept,  and  stole  him  away.  And  they  continued  to 
rise  up  against  all  the  miracles  of  the  apostles,  and 
to  rage  in  proportion  to  the  increase  of  evidence. 

The  principal  actors  among  the  Jews,  and  parti- 
cularly the  chief  priests,  knew  that  Jesus  was  the 
Messiah.  "  Then  cried  Jesus  in  the  temple,  [to  the 
priests  chiefly]  as  he  taught,  saying.  Ye  both  know 
me  and  ye  know  whence  I  am."  "  When  the  hus- 
bandmen saw  him,  [the  parable  was  spoken  in  the 
temple  against  "  the  chief  priests  and  the  scribes 
and  the  elders."]  they  reasoned  among  themselves, 
saying,  This  is  the  heir,  come  let  us  kill  him  that 
the  inheritance  may  be  ours."  They  wished  to  be 
esteemed  the  most  holy,  and  to  impose  their  own 
traditions  for  laws,  and  to  engross  the  worship  of 
the  people  themselves ;  and  they  could  not  bear  to 
have  their  hypocrisy  exposed  and  their  tyranny  bro- 
ken by  the  reformation  which  he  was  introducing. 
They  slew  the  known  heir  that  they  might  thus  seize 
the  inheritance. 

But  there  were  some  among  the  crucifiers  of 
Christ  who  had  not  this  knowledge.  "  I  wot  that 
through  ignorance  ye  did  it  as  did  also  your  rulers." 
"  We  speak  the  wisdom  of  God, — which  none  of 
the  princes  of  this  world  knew ;  [Herod  and  Pilate 
particularly;]  for  had  they  known  it  they  would 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  587 

not  have  crucified  the  Lord  of  glory."  Indeed  all 
that  were  susceptible  of  salvation  Avere  without  this 
knowledge:  for  to  take  that  high  and  malignant 
ground  against  a  known  Messiah,  was  the  sin  unto 
death.  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do."  Not  one  of  the  murderers  that  did 
know  was  prayed  for."  "  I  obtained  mercy,"  says 
Paul,  "because  I  did  it  ignorantly  in  unbelief;" 
implying  that  but  for  ignorance  his  opposition  to 
Christ  would  have  been  unpardonable. 

Here  then  were  five  descriptions  of  people  at  the 
cross  and  among  these  breaking  wonders,  and  each 
with  a  different  effect.  The  disciples,  with  pro- 
found grief  and  awe ;  the  Roman  soldiers  stained  with 
blood,  and  acknowledging  with  dreadful  alarm,  and 
in  some  cases  probably  with  true  contrition,  that 
they  had  mocked  and  murdered  the  Son  of  God;  idle 
spectators,  who  came  together  to  enjoy  the  sight, 
and  mingled  in  with  the  impious  scoffs,  but  went 
away  in  anguish  smiting  their  breasts ;  Jewish  ac- 
tors in  the  scene  who  did  not  know  the  high  charac- 
ter of  their  victim,  but  hated  him  because  they  had 
a  Jewish  heart ;  and  the  more  knowing  priests  and 
scribes  and  elders  who  crucified  him  because  he 
was  the  Messiah.  We  have  no  evidence  that  either 
of  the  last  two  classes  were  at  all  aflfected  by  the 
miracles ;  and  know  that  the  last  class  of  all  could 
not  be  affected  otherwise  than  by  being  stirred  up 
to  greater  rage.  Pagan  soldiers,  after  all  their  in- 
sults and  murderous  cruelty,  can  be  con(iuered  by 
evidence  and  brought  to  repentance:  even  Jews 
who  have  sinned  against  all  their  light,  but  have 


588  RETURNING    FROM 

not  actually  joined  in  the  crucifixion,  can  submit  to 
evidence  and  smite  their  breasts  :  but  Jews  who 
have  imbrued  their  hands  in  a  Saviour's  blood  against 
all  the  light  of  their  Scriptures,  can  view  the  mira- 
culous eclipse,  can  feel  the  heaving  earth,  can  see 
the  rocks  and  the  vail  of  the  temple  rent,  can  wit- 
ness the  greater  miracle  of  such  a  death,  and  go 
away  as  stupid  as  brutes  :  and  those  who  knew  him 
to  be  the  Messiah,  could  go  away  enraged  the  more 
at  these  attestations  of  heaven. 

From  this  interesting  piece  of  history  we  learn, 
1.  That  a  sudden  discovery  of  the  claims  of 
Christ,  connected  with  a  sense  of  having  rejected 
and  crucified  him,  will  cause  men  to  tremble  and 
smite  their  breasts.  How  transfixed  to  earth  in 
dreadful  astonishment  were  those  wretches  at  the 
cross,  when  sudden  conviction  broke  upon  them 
that  the  being  they  had  murdered  was  the  Son  of" 
the  great  and  dreadful  God.  Never  was  Cain  worse 
confounded  when  taken  by  his  Maker  with  his  bro- 
ther's blood  in  his  skirts.  So  in  these  days,  sinners 
are  often  arrested  by  the  very  side  of  the  cross 
which  they  have  reared,  and  by  the  very  body 
which  they  have  pierced.  The  claims  of  Jesus  as 
the  Messiah,  and  the  awful  fact  that  their  sins 
caused  his  death,  open  upon  them.  And  when  they 
are  thus  seized  and  convicted,  how  do  they  beat 
their  breasts  and  cry,  "  Wo  is  me  !  what  mean  these 
bloody  hands?  undone,  undone  forever!  Rocks 
and  mountains  cover  me !  And  reason  is  that  they 
should  weep  and  break  their  hearts.  What  have 
they  done?     Alas  they  knew  not  what  they  did. 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  689 

But  now  they  know.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  they 
tremble  ?  Blame  not  their  tears.  They  have  cause 
enough  to  weep.  And  so  have  Ave  who  may  be 
now  returning  from  the  cross  with  the  stupidity  of 
the  chief  priests.  We  have  been  to  Calvary,  be- 
holding a  murdered  Saviour :  we  have  been  view- 
ing the  darkness  and  the  earthquake  and  the  open- 
ing graves  :  and  now  as  wc  return  let  us  smite  our 
breasts,  for  we  too  have  conspired  to  murder  him. 
It  is  at  the  cross  that  we  must  see  sin  in  its  most 
horrid  forms:  it  is  by  the  cross  that  sin  must  be 
crucified  to  us  :  and  it  is  under  the  droppings  of  the 
cross  that  all  our  guilt  must  be  purged  away. 

2.  There  are  some  whom  no  wonders  can  subdue 
or  convince.  Not  the  darkness  nor  the  earthquake 
nor  the  rending  of  the  vail  nor  the  rending  of  the 
graves,  nor  all  the  wonders  of  eighteen  hundred 
years,  nor  the  great  agitation  which  is  now  shaking 
the  consciences  of  men,  nor  the  resurrection  of  the 
spiritually  dead,  can  bring  them  to  smite  their 
breasts.  They  have  complete  evidence  before  them 
of  the  existence  of  those  identical  wonders  which 
convinced  the  centurion.  Matthew  wrote  his  Gos- 
pel but  eight  years  after  the  crucifixion,  and  on  the 
very  ground.  And  he  appealed  to  the  whole  nation, 
friends  and  foes,  and  to  thousands  of  Jews  who  had 
come  up  to  the  feasts  from  all  the  known  parts  of 
the  world,  in  proof  of  facts  alleged  to  have  been 
done  before  their  eyes ;  such  as  the  miraculous 
cures,  the  raising  of  the  dead  and  casting  out  de- 
vils, the  darkness,  the  earthquakes,  the  vision  of 
angels,  the  resurrection,  the  appearances  of  the  risen 


590  RETURNING   FROM 

Saviour,  once  to  five  hundred  at  a  time,  and  his  as- 
cension from  Olivet,  before  Jerusalem,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  a  multitude.  If  these  facts  were  not  so, 
the  impudent  imposture  would  have  been  known  to 
all  men,  and  prevented  a  single  convert,  much  more 
the  thousands  who  flocked  to  Christ  on  that  ground 
and  in  that  day  and  sent  their  testimony  convincing- 
ly through  the  world.  If  the  records  of  the  events 
were  published  in  that  day,  the  facts  must  have  been 
as  they  are  stated.  If  the  records  were  forged  and 
brought  forward,  say  a  hundred  years  afterwards, 
containing  names  and  facts  never  heard  of  before, 
the  mention  of  churches  in  the  most  public  cities  in 
the  world,  and  Epistles  sent  to  those  churches,  when 
neither  churches  nor  the  name  of  Christianity  had 
ever  been  heard  of;  they  could  not  have  been  be- 
lieved by  man,  woman,  or  child,  much  less  by  the 
best  and  most  learned  men  of  the  age,  who  had 
evidence  enough  to  convince  the  known  world  and 
to  place  Christianity  shortly  on  the  throne  of  the 
Cesars. 

We  have  therefore  as  much  evidence  of  the  facts 
as  had  the  crucifiers  of  Christ;  and  if  it  could  con- 
vince such  hardened  monsters  and  suddenly  trans- 
form them  into  worshippers  and  martyrs,  it  ought  to 
convince  us. 

We  have  more  evidence  than  they.  We  have 
seen  the  Spirit  of  God  applying  the  truths  of  the 
Bible,  and  the  providence  of  God  supporting  the 
Church  against  all  the  corruptions  of  the  world,  for 
eighteen  hundred  years.  Even  now  God  is  dis- 
playing before  your  eyes  wonders  of  evidence  in  ho- 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  591 


nor  of  his  Son.  That  divine  power  which  attends 
the  Gospel,  by  which  the  bhnd  are  made  to  see  and 
feel  Bible  truths,  and  by  which  wonderful  trans- 
formations of  heart  and  life  are  eilected,  producing 
all  the  real  goodness  which  has  appeared  in  our 
world  since  the  advent,  furnishes  proof  no  less  de- 
cisive than  the  darkness  and  the  earthquake  which 
attended  the  crucifixion.  It  is  evidence  for  which 
we  are  not  indebted  to  historical  records,  but  which 
lies  before  our  eyes  as  obviously  as  the  miracles  did 
before  the  spectators  of  the  passion.  By  this  power 
many  are  now  convinced  that  they  have  been  cruci- 
fying the  Son  of  God,  and  are  returning  from  their 
wickedness  smiting  their  breasts.  You  see  their 
tears,  you  hear  their  sighs :  Let  this  great  earth- 
quake by  which  so  many  hearts  are  shaken,  awaken 
all  from  the  sleep  of  infidelity,  and  break  oft"  the 
covering  of  the  graves  that  the  spiritually  dead  may 
come  forth. 

But  no  evidence  will  bring  man  to  submit  without 
the  eflfectual  operation  of  almighty  grace.  Calvary 
may  send  forth  a  thousand  wonders;  Pentecost 
may  speak  with  a  thousand  tongues  ;  revivals  of  re- 
ligion may  stamp  the  attestations  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
upon  revealed  truth ;  but  all  to  no  purpose  to  hearts 
resolved  not  to  feel.  And  many,  like  the  Jews,  will 
continue  to  resist  all  the  light  that  heaven  and  earth 
can  yield,  until  wrath  comes  upon  them  to  the  ut- 
termost. 

Even  those  who  are  brought  by  conviction  to 
smite  their  breasts,  will  hold  out  with  stubborn  per- 
severance against  God.     Nothing  but  all  con^iucr- 


592  RETURNING    FROM 

ing  power  can  bring  them  to  apply  for  cleansing  to 
the  blood  they  have  shed. 

But  there  is  another  class  who  constitute  the 
greatest  wonder  of  the  creation.  They  rank  with 
the  Jewish  priests  who  opposed  and  crucified  Jesus 
as  the  Messiah.  It  seems  impossible  that  any  but 
madmen  should  have  pursued  such  a  course.  But 
we  see  the  same  thing  acted  out  in  modern  times. 
Men  oppose  the  truth,  knowing  it  to  be  the  truth 
of  God,  and  reproach  revivals,  knowing  them  to  be 
the  work  of  God,  and  persecute  Christians  because 
they  are  the  friends  of  God.  Some  of  them  strug- 
gle against  their  convictions  and  try  to  disbelieve. 
Others,  without  even  an  attempt  to  doubt,  remain  as 
stupid  as  animals  without  souls.  Others,  roused  to 
a  little  more  reflection,  resolutely  say  to  God,  "  De- 
part from  us,  for  we  desire  not  the  knowledge  of 
thy  ways."  They  will  not  pray ;  they  will  not  attend 
religious  meetings ;  they  will  ?ioif  meditate  upon  God. 
Others  are  rancorously  opposed  to  God's  law,  to  his 
decree  of  election,  to  the  eternal  punishment  of  the 
wicked ;  and  cavil  against  him,  and  hate  him  and 
his  service  and  his  people,  and  openly  oppose  every 
thing  that  belongs  to  God,  knowing  all  the  time  that 
it  is  God  they  oppose.  They  all  sin  in  defiance  of 
conscience.  And  many  of  them,  by  sinning  ma- 
lignantly against  light,  commit  the  sin  unto  death. 

Unhappy  men !  can  you  hope  to  prevail  against 
God  ?  to  put  down  his  religion  ?  to  change  his  go- 
vernment ?  "  Hast  thou  an  arm  like  God  ?  or  canst 
thou  thunder  with  a  voice  like  him  ?  Or  do  you 
hope  to  escape  out  of  his  hands  ?    No,  you  have 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  593 

some  indelinite  purpose  to  be  religious  before  you 
die, — to  turn  him  off  with  the  dregs  of  hfe — to 
serve  him  after  you  have  done  serving  yourself. 
And  do  you  hope  that  he  will  accept  .that  service  ? 
After  you  have  thrust  him  away  with  contempt  and 
rebelled  against  him  thirty  years,  on  the  presump- 
tion that  he  will  help  you  repent  at  last,  can  it  be 
expected  that  he  will  help  you  ?  The  manner  in 
which  he  treats  other  aged  sinners  gives  you  little 
reason  to  hope.  Seldom  is  an  aged  sinner  convert- 
ed. But  the  times  are  changing  and  greater  grace 
may  be  expected,  and  more  old  sinners  will  be  con- 
verted hereafter.  No,  the  aged  sinners  who  are 
now  sometimes  brought  in,  never  sinned,  when 
young,  against  such  grace  as  you  now  abuse.  You 
are  likely  soon  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  your  ini- 
quity, and  either  to  find  an  early  grave,  or  be  left, 
abandoned  of  God,  to  prepare  for  a  deeper  hell. 
Of  all  men  you  are  among  the  most  wicked,  the 
most  presumptuous,  and  the  most  exposed ;  and  I 
may  add,  the  most  unwise.  With  all  the  accuracy 
of  your  reasoning  on  other  subjects,  here  you  rea- 
son like  madmen.  With  all  the  boasted  soundess 
of  your  calculations  in  other  matters,  here  you  are 
more  wild  than  suicide  itself.  And  it  is  all  the  un- 
conquerable obduracy  and  daring  of  your  heart. 
Your  intellect  plainly  sees  what  your  interests  are ; 
your  conscience  feels  your  obligations ;  and  yet 
that  hard  and  profligate  heart  rushes  to  its  objects 
m  defiance  of  the  heavens  and  reckless  of  your 
eternal  interests.  You  know  what  you  are  doing ; 
you  know  whom  you  are  provoking  and  challcng- 
Vol.  I.  " 


594  RETURNING    FROM 

iiig ;  and  yet  your  implacable  enmity  to  God  and 
his  ways  carries  you  on.  The  great  deceiver  who 
whispers  in  your  ear,  and  your  own  deceitful  heart, 
suggest  a  thousand  excuses,  a  thousand  hopes  of 
escape,  and  a  thousand  allurements  to  tempt  you 
from  anxious  thought.  And  willingly  you  yield  to 
the  suggestions.  You  hear  God  invite  and  com- 
mand, but  you  heed  it  not.  You  will  not  pray; 
you  will  not  think.  All  the  expostulations  and  en- 
treaties of  friends  cannot  persuade  you  once  to 
bend  the  knee,  or  to  read  your  Bible,  or  to  attend 
the  special  religious  meetings.  There  is  no  plea 
of  inability  in  the  case.  These  are  things  which 
you  acknowledge  you  can  do.  But  you  will  not. 
It  is  your  deliberate  choice  not  to  become  Chris- 
tians at  present.  It  would  interfere  with  the  plans 
of  life  which  you  have  laid  out.  And  those  plans 
you  will  pursue  whatever  God  says.  You  are  de- 
termined that  your  own  self  shall  be  gratified,  how- 
ever much  God  is  disobliged  and  offended.  If  he 
tells  you  of  his  Son  who  died  on  the  torturing 
spikes  for  you,  it  does  not  move  you  to  forego  one 
gratification  for  him,  nor  once  to  thank  him,  nor 
to  repent  of  sin  which  made  him  bleed.  It  does 
not  eclipse  the  disk  of  your  joy,  though  it  put  out 
the  sun.  It  does  not  shake  your  steadfastness, 
though  it  shook  the  mountains.  It  does  not  break 
the  rock  in  your  breast,  though  it  rent  the  rocks  of 
Calvary.  It  does  not  bring  you  to  smite  your 
breasts,  though  it  thus  affected  the  insulting  Jews. 
It  does  not  move  a  fibre  of  your  callous  heart,  though 
it  subdued  Roman  soldiers,  with  their  bloody  hands, 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  595 

into  fear  and  contrition  and  an  acknowledgement 
that  he  was  the  Son  of  God.  Go  then  and  pursue 
your  ways  and  be  the  hardest  of  all  men.  Go  and 
sink  to  a  lower  hell  than  Sodom  found.  Go  and 
spend  an  eternity  in  longing  to  ascend  to  the  sub- 
lime heights  of  Gomorrah.  Is  it  any  wonder  that 
God  has  built  an  eternal  hell?  Is  it  any  wonder 
that  such  obstinate  contemners  of  dying  love  should 
sink  lower  than  pagans, — lower  than  devils  ? 

There  are  some  who,  though  not  yet  brought  to 
smite  their  breasts,  are  less  hardened  than  these. 
To  them  I  can  come  with  greater  hope.  Here  then 
we  stand  by  the  cross  of  Christ.  Draw  near  and 
behold  what  your  sins  have  done.  View  the  Son 
of  God  dying  for  your  offences,  and  go  not  away 
with  the  stupidity  of  the  chief  priests.  Why  should 
not  that  blood  which  is  dripping  from  the  cross  dis- 
solve your  hearts  ?  Why  should  not  the  darkness 
and  the  earthquake  convince  you  ?  Shall  spiteful 
Jews,  shall  Roman  soldiers,  shall  a  dying  thief, 
sooner  yield  to  evidence,  and  go  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  before  you  ?  Fall  down  at  the  feet  of  a 
dying  Saviour,  and  let  your  hearts  bleed  their  life 
away  for  the  treasons  which  have  caused  his  death. 
Hasten  to  be  baptised  in  his  blood,  and  evince  your 
gratitude  by  lives  devoted  to  his  service. 

What  did  it  avail  the  unbelieving  .Tews  to  shut 
their  eyes  to  the  claims  of  the  Messiah  ?  Could 
they  always  keep  them  closed  ?  Eternity  was  ap- 
pointed to  do  away  their  mistakes.  And  with  what 
unutterable  astonishment,  when  their  eyes  opened 
in  eternity,  did  they  find  themselves  at  the  bar  of 


596  RETURNING    FROM 

him  who  had  stood  at  their  tribunal.  What  now 
think  you  of  him  whom  you  insuhed  on  the  cross 
as  unable  to  deliver  himself?  Who  now  shall  de- 
liver you  out  of  his  hands  ?  Where  are  Pilate  and 
Herod  now  ?  Ah  how  changed  the  scene.  And 
such  a  change,  my  poor  hearers,  will  those  eyes 
one  day  behold.  When  he  who  wept  in  the  man- 
ger, who  sweat  in  the  garden,  and  bled  on  the 
cross ;  when  he  who  has  called  in  your  streets  and 
knocked  at  your  doors,  shall  come  in  the  clouds  of 
heaven,  arrayed  in  the  brightness  of  a  thousand 
suns ;  when  the  heavens  shall  flee  away  at  his  pre- 
sence and  worlds  shall  be  enkindled  by  the  breath 
of  his  mouth ;  when  the  dead  shall  awake  at  his 
voice,  and  every  sinner  in  earth  and  hell  shall  be 
arraigned  at  his  bar ;  then  with  another  mind  will 
you  behold  him  whom  you  now  reject.  You  can- 
not now  drop  a  tear  at  the  very  foot  of  the  cross  j 
but  then  to  purpose  you  will  look  on  him  whom  you 
have  pierced  and  mourn.  He  will  not  then  come 
to  plead,  but  to  judge  ;  not  to  suffer,  but  to  inflict, 
more  than  he  endured,  on  the  authors  of  his  death. 
What  grief  will  then  rive  your  heart  that  you  did 
not  apply  to  him  in  season.  By  all  the  nameless 
terrors  of  that  day ;  by  the  pleading  love  which 
now  follow  you  in  the  Gospel ;  by  the  pity  which 
bled  on  the  point  of  the  spear  and  received  the  spit- 
tings of  Roman  soldiers ;  by  the  mercy  which  for- 
gave his  murderers  before  his  blood  was  cold  on 
their  hands  ;  I  entreat,  I  beseech  you  to  fall  down 
at  his  feet  and  make  your  peace  through  his  blood. 
Now  it  is  offered  to  you  without  money  and  with- 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  597 

out  price ;  to-morrow  it  may  be  too  late.  Go  not 
from  this  house  until  you  have  accepted  the  great 
salvation.  Why  should  you  delay?  Why  need 
you  delay  ?  All  heaven  is  waiting  for  your  decision. 
The  Church  on  earth  is  waiting  for  your  decision. 
The  authority  of  the  eternal  God  presses  upon  you. 
He  commands  you  now  to  repent.  Infinite  dangers 
lie  couched  under  a  moment's  delay.  A  moment's 
delay  deserves  eternal  burnings.  Why  will  you 
commit  that  unbounded  sin?  Why  will  you  throw 
upon  a  dying  Saviour  that  measureless  ingratitude  ? 
I  hear  a  voice  from  the  cross  saying,  "  It  is  finish- 
ed :  if  you  ever  come,  come  now."    Amen. 


1 


Date  Due 

Iftr  19  '40 

•^gjttfijKiiSlWti 

^' 

^ 

